


Puppy Love

by fuzipenguin



Series: Of Mechs and Dogs [2]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, Other, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 43
Words: 122,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet and the Twins attempt to forge a family despite the odds against them. Sequel to a Tail or Two</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                Several hours later, all Ratchet could think was, ‘now what?’

                The Twins’ had merged and cuddled while Ratchet had spoken to the head of the Veterinary Academy, updating him on the Twins’ case. Shortly after, Prowl had caught up with Ratchet, and he had given the Enforcer an official statement. After grabbing several cubes of energon, he had followed Prowl into the Twins’ recovery room and dispersed the fuel. Listening to Sideswipe’s and Sunstreaker’s statements just managed to infuriate Ratchet all over again, so he had gone into a cleaning frenzy, sterilizing and straightening everything in the rooms he had used.

                Sunstreaker had watched for several moments before turning over to fall back into recharge. Sideswipe’s optics had followed Ratchet’s every move, even while snuggled up in Sunstreaker’s embrace. It was a little unnerving, but Ratchet had managed to ignore it by worrying.  Before he had left, Prowl had mentioned sending over an official from Youngling Protection Services, the thought of which left Ratchet with a bad taste in his tanks.

                Finally, Ratchet plopped down on the stool Wheeljack had been using earlier, and stared moodily out the window.

                “What’s wrong, Ratchet?” Sideswipe asked.

                The medic shook his head, intakes heaving in a sigh. “This room’s going to be needed in a few hours after the student surgery lab finishes. I’m not quite sure where to take you both.”

                “We’re not going home with you?” Sideswipe asked in a small voice. Ratchet’s optics darted over to see the red twin’s faceplates twist with hope.

                “Sideswipe…” Ratchet began, but broke off not knowing where to begin. “Technically, you’re both considered younglings. Prowl mentioned an organization for orphaned sparklings and younglings…

                Sideswipe shot upright, dislodging his brother. “No! We’re not going to be caged up again!” he exclaimed, optics wide and wild.

                Ratchet stood, coming over to laying a calming hand on the mech’s shoulder. “It wouldn’t be a cage. It would be a foster home that would provide for you until you reach adulthood. That’s not that long off…”

                “But we won’t know any of those people!” Sideswipe protested. “What are they going to make us do?”

                Ratchet glanced over to see Sunstreaker’s open optics watching them both. The dark blue stare held a wealth of emotions and showed an age far more advanced than their years would suggest. As far as the medic was concerned, the twins had reached maturity through experience, not years, but the Protection Services wouldn’t see that.

                “You’re not going to be made to do anything. But you’ll have the opportunity to go to school, learn new skills,” Ratchet explained. “Actually have a childhood.”

                “It’s a little late for that,” Sideswipe remarked, his optics turning as dark as his brother’s.

                “Why can’t we go with you?” Sunstreaker spoke up, startling both Ratchet and Sideswipe. Ratchet had thought Sunstreaker was indifferent to where he went as long as he was with his brother. Apparently he wasn’t as indifferent to the medic as he seemed.

                Optics blinking to clear away his surprise, Ratchet’s attention turned to the quieter brother. “I just don’t have the space. Wheeljack and I room together in one of the student dorms to save money. It’s half the size of this,” he said, gesturing to the recovery space they occupied.

                “We’re smaller in our mech form,” Sideswipe ventured, and Ratchet shook his head furiously.

                “Absolutely not. _This_ is your root form, and I’ll not have you being forced into the other to fit into a space,” Ratchet spat. A strange look crossed Sunstreaker’s faceplates and then he made a noncommittal sound, lying back down.

                “Are you going to take us right now?” Sideswipe asked, fidgeting. His frame was tense, practically vibrating with unvoiced apprehension. It was easy for Ratchet to make his decision.

                “No. You can stay with me. Just for tonight,” Ratchet said, seeing the immediate relief in the brothers. “You both need more time to rest before you’re put through another move.”

                The red mech’s faceplates shone with happiness. “Thanks, Ratch! We owe you so much.”

                The vet shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. Except to heal up and find a better life. Now come on. If you two are done canoodling, I can clean that berth,” Ratchet said, indicating for them to get up. They parted reluctantly, each rolling off their side of the berth. Sideswipe looked to be raring to go, even as he wobbled a little. Sunstreaker just stared down at himself, sighing.

                “You do have a washrack, right?” he asked, rubbing at marks only he could see.

                Ratchet blinked at Sunstreaker. “There’s a communal rack, yes.”

                “I guess that’ll have to do,” Sunstreaker replied. He glanced up at his brother and sighed again. “We have a lot of work to do.”

\--

                Sunstreaker was true to his word. As soon as the trio entered Wheeljack and Ratchet’s room, he grabbed Sideswipe and headed back into the hallway to the washracks. Sideswipe was up on his feet for short distances now that Ratchet had determined his back strut welds to be holding, but the medic had cautioned Sunstreaker to not let Sideswipe stand for too long.

                Straightening his half of the room, he commed Wheeljack.

                **Are the Twins ok?** Wheeljack asked, as soon as they had connected.

                **They’re fine. Sideswipe’s moving around for short distances. Sunstreaker kidnapped him to clean them both up. I…** Ratchet trailed off. **We have some guests for the night. I promise that it’s just for the night though; I’ll be taking them to Youngling Protective Services in the morning.**

 **I figured they would be staying with us,** Wheeljack said easily. **There’s nowhere else they can go.** Wheeljack paused. **Are you sure you want to hand them over to YPS?**

 **It’s the only option,** Ratchet said firmly.

                **Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that,** Wheeljack replied, smile evident in his tone.

                **‘Jack…**

**No, I know. I’ll stay in the lab tonight. Need to finish this project by the end of the week anyway. Let me know how things go.**

**Thanks, ‘Jack,** Ratchet said, truly grateful that he had such a great friend.

                After their communication had ended, Ratchet looked around the room, gaze finally alighting on one of the data pads he had been studying a mere day ago. It now seemed like weeks. He grabbed it and sat on the edge of the bed, paging through his notes. The President of the Academy had granted him today and tomorrow off, but then he would be plunged back into his rotations. Thankfully, this was his second surgery rotation and had already proved that he had great promise so his teachers were more than happy to let him have personal time. Still, it bothered him to be away from all the cases he could learn from.

                An unknown amount of time later, he was shaken awake to stare up into the concerned faceplates of one of his temporary wards. “Hey, Ratchet. You fell into recharge,” Sideswipe said.

                “Do you blame him? He was working on your sorry aft most of last night,” Sunstreaker said, sprawled across Wheeljack’s berth.

                “Make yourself at home,” Ratchet said grumpily, pushing himself upright.

                Sideswipe’s faceplates twisted a little at the reminder of all the effort Ratchet had made on his behalf. “I haven’t been sleeping well these past few weeks. It must have all caught up to me,” Ratchet reassured the former dog.

                “Do you want us to do anything for you?” Sideswipe asked, straightening and looking around uncertainly. Now that he had stepped back a little, Ratchet could see that the majority of the scrapes and dullness had been repaired, and Sideswipe shone nearly as brightly as his brother.

                “You do good work,” Ratchet commented to Sunstreaker, giving the red mech a once over. Sideswipe preened a little under Ratchet’s optics.

                “Eh. I didn’t have much to work with. Once I’m able, I’ll strip both of our finishes and start over. This color is less than ideal,” Sunstreaker remarked, holding out an arm and observing the paint job.

                “I don’t see anything wrong with it,” Ratchet replied.

                Sunstreaker glanced over, his optics raking down Ratchet’s frame dismissively. “Of course _you_ wouldn’t.”

                Ratchet looked down at himself and had to admit that his normal bright white and red were looking a little worn out. “I’ve been busy,” he protested.

                “He’s been saving our lives, Sunny,” Sideswipe said, plopping down next to his brother’s hip.

                “Stop calling me that!” Sunstreaker hissed, glaring. Sideswipe ignored him, instead gazing at the vet.

                “Why don’t you take your turn in the ‘racks? Relax under the hot spray and then come back and get a good recharge?” Sideswipe suggested.

                Ratchet had to admit that that sounded like a wonderful idea, especially after the past few days he had had. “That… actually sounds pretty appealing. Have you both had enough energon? There’s a communal dispenser downstairs if not. I can give you my code.”

                Sideswipe shifted and cuddled up against his brother. “No, we’re fine. Go wash up. We’ll keep ourselves occupied.”

                Ratchet paused, halfway to standing. “Stay out of trouble, all right? Most mechs are either recharging or studying right now.”

                “We’ll stay right here,” Sideswipe promised, pulling his feet up onto the berth.

                Eyeing them warily, Ratchet opened his door and walked down the hall to the washracks. Once there, he heaved a sigh and began picking up the drying clothes the Twins had haphazardly left behind. He placed them in the cleaning shoot and then chose a stall near the end that offered the most privacy. Then he turned on the water full blast and leaned against the wall.

                As he stood there, he pondered the two younglings snuggled together in his room. He couldn’t keep them. There was just no way. He didn’t have the money or the space, and what did he know about younglings, really? He was having trouble even thinking them younglings anyway, especially with their elegant lines and broad chasses. Sunstreaker especially was very handsome, and Ratchet had to firmly lock those thoughts away even as his groinplates grew warm. Younglings. They were innocent, inexperienced younglings. And he apparently needed to get out more.

                Ratchet turned, allowing the spray to beat down upon his back, his thoughts continuing. Would YPS be able to place the Twins in an appropriate place? Would Sunstreaker and Sideswipe get the love and affection they deserved? Fretting, Ratchet scrubbed himself down with the cleaning solvent, worrying about TopNotch’s trial and his own money situation.

                Finally, he was clean again and after a few quick swipes with a towel, he was hopefully presentable enough for the particular Sunstreaker. He placed his used towel in the laundry shoot and headed back to his dorm.

                Once inside, he had to keep himself from sighing dopily. The red and yellow forms were once again tangled together, Sunstreaker’s head buried under Sideswipe’s chin. They were fully in recharge and barely twitched as Ratchet walked across the room. He stood over them momentarily and gazed upon their peaceful frames, thrilled once again that he had had some part in unlocking their forms and reuniting their sparks. Even though they weren’t dogs any longer, he still considered them his patients, and he was proud of the work he had done.

                Nodding his head in satisfaction, he turned to crawl into his own berth. He settled in with a sigh, glancing over at his entwined guests one last time before sending the code to turn off the lights.

\--

                Sideswipe rose out of recharge, shaken and unsettled. Faint echoes of shouting rang in his audios as he looked around in confusion. Sunstreaker’s arms tightened around him, and he met his brother’s flickering optics, a little dazed.

                _What’s the matter?_

                _Memory purge, I guess_ , Sideswipe replied _. We’re with Ratchet, right? This isn’t a bad line of code?_

 _No. We’re in Ratchet’s tiny excuse for a living area, on his roommate’s tiny excuse for a bed_ , Sunstreaker grumped. _Go back to recharge_.

                Sideswipe looked of his shoulder and just barely made out Ratchet’s still form with the dim light of his own optics. _Are you absolutely sure?_

                Sunstreaker’s intakes heaved once, and then he ran a light hand down Sideswipe’s faceplates. _Yes, you glitch_ , he said fondly. _It’s all real_.

                Sideswipe immediately leaned into the caress and then folded himself back into his brother’s arms. _Thanks, Sunny._

Sunstreaker almost immediately cycled back down into recharge, but Sideswipe continued to remain conscious. Even basking in his brother’s presence, he felt… off. He remained in the berth for nearly an hour, fighting to clear his processor and join Sunstreaker in recharge but finally gave up.

                He stealthily removed himself from his brother’s grip and padded softly over to Ratchet’s berth. He gazed down on the medic’s still form for a moment before climbing into the berth and settling down as close to Ratchet as he dared. The medic stirred, and Sideswipe froze, frame braced to dart away.

                Ratchet’s optics slitted open, and the two stared at each other before Ratchet reached out and laid a hand on Sideswipe’s cheekplate. “Red?” he asked fuzzily. “Are you hurt?”

                “No, no… I’m…” Sideswipe stuttered, unable to vocalize his unease. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I’ll…” he said, already starting to slide away.

                Ratchet’s hand slipped to Sideswipe’s shoulder, and Ratchet tugged. “No, it’s all right. Come ‘ere.” With a pull, Sideswipe landed up against Ratchet’s chassis, and Ratchet rested his chin on Sideswipe’s helm. “Everything’s ok,” Ratchet reassured the youngling, fingers stroking Sideswipe’s neck cables soothingly.

                Sideswipe immediately melted against the vet’s frame, engine rumbling in a happy purr. His free hand crept along Ratchet’s side and reached up to splay over Ratchet’s spark. He drifted back into recharge, lulled by the medic’s steady spark beat.

                --

                When Ratchet’s forgotten internal alarm brought him out of recharge, his first thought was that he wished he had turned the Primus forsaken thing off before he had crept into bed. The second was that he was really warm. And comfortable. He stretched, feeling the heavy weight of another mech draped over him, and booted up his optics. Somehow he wasn’t surprised to see Sideswipe’s form sprawled up against him. What was surprising was his own lack of reaction. Instead of startling and pushing Sideswipe away, he stroked the other’s helm, smiling a little as Sideswipe murmured nonsensically.

                “The little glitch is good at worming his way under your defenses,” Sunstreaker said wryly. Ratchet turned his head to see the yellow mech sitting on the side of Wheeljack’s berth. His faceplates were blank, but his optics held a soft light in them as they looked at his brother.

                “And what about you?” Ratchet asked. Sunstreaker startled, gaze moving to the vet.

                “What about me?” he asked brusquely, the fond light turning hard.

                “There’s still room for one more,” Ratchet said, lifting the arm that wasn’t pinned down by Sideswipe. Ratchet patted the berth to his side invitingly, glad that he and Sideswipe had scrunched up against the wall in the middle of the night.

                Ratchet’s spark twisted at the look of shock across Sunstreaker’s faceplates. He had obviously never expected to get such an invitation, had probably never had any one touch him in gentleness except his twin.

                Sunstreaker stood, form wavering between sitting back down and moving across the space separating them. He hesitantly shuffled forward and flinched backwards when Ratchet shifted slightly to his side.

                “Come here, Sunny,” Ratchet said softly, lowly, in the tone he used for the most skittish of animals.

                Still hunched over as expecting to be hit at any moment, Sunstreaker slid himself onto the bed, making sure to keep a healthy distance between himself and Ratchet. The yellow mech stilled, teetering on the edge of the berth until Ratchet snuck his arm around Sunstreaker’s shoulders and gently pulled him closer.

                “It’s all right,” Ratchet murmured. “It’s all right; I got you, sweetspark.”

                With a low keen, Sunstreaker turned and threw himself at Ratchet’s side, clutching at whatever seams he could find. A little startled, Ratchet snugged his arm over Sunstreaker’s back and held him close, placing a soft kiss on the yellow mech’s helm.

                Moments later, Sideswipe came up out of recharge, pulled awake by Sunstreaker’s distressed lunge. He reached across Ratchet, finding and clutching at his brother’s hand, crooning softly.

                “We’re safe now, it’s ok, Sunny,” Sideswipe whispered.

                Sunstreaker violently shook his head, unable to lift it to meet Ratchet’s optics. “Don’t let us go. We’ll do anything. Just keep us,” he pleaded, vocalizer filling with static.

                Ratchet pulled his arm out from under Sideswipe and wrapped it around the shaking Sunstreaker, causing another cry to emerge. Ratchet hushed the shivering youngling, hands soothing over his upper back.

                “Shh, shh. We’ll find a way. I don’t know how, but I’ll think of something,” Ratchet murmured, knowing he shouldn’t make such a commitment but unable to do say anything else. The Twins had wound themselves through his spark so deeply that he doubted he would ever be able remove them.

                Sideswipe flung himself over both Ratchet and Sunstreaker, resorting to sparkling clicks in his overwhelming emotional state. Ratchet freed a hand to stroke at his helm as well, clutching both of them close as they keened out their fear and need. Ratchet found himself shaking as much as the Twins, and buried his faceplates in the nearest armor, sending a plea upwards to Primus.

                Ratchet had absolutely no idea how he was going to make this work. Only that it had to.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Youngling Protection Services agent comes for a visit.

                His second emergence from recharge was not as gentle as the first. The first thing that he noticed was that there was a heavy, growling weight on top of him. The second was the shouting ringing from the other end of the room.  Confused, it took a few moments before his processor could catch up. Then he cursed and shoved Sunstreaker off of him, the mech tumbling to the floor with a grunt. Ratchet lunged up off the berth and grabbed at Sideswipe who was in dog form atop a flailing Wheeljack.

                Sideswipe snarled and snapped his jaws as Ratchet pulled him back by his collar seam, but finally subsided with a whine when the vet lightly slapped the back of his head. “You idiot! Stop that, you know Wheeljack!” Ratchet shouted.

                “He was leaning over you,” Sunstreaker growled, the words nearly obscured by his revving engine.

                “It’s Wheeljack! He can lean over me all he wants considering how much he’s helped the both of you. Transform. Right now,” Ratchet commanded, shaking Sideswipe a little. With a low pitched whimper, Sideswipe did as he was told. As soon as Ratchet heard the sounds of a transformation sequence, he stepped around the red mech and crouched by his roommate.

                “’Jack, are you all right?” he asked, giving his friend a hand in sitting up.

                Wheeljack’s optics were huge, his intakes heaving, but the vet couldn’t see any immediate injuries. “No, no, I’m all right. Just a little surprised, that’s all,” he said, patting Ratchet’s arm. “Not every morning one gets bowled over by a protective gladiator dog.”

                “I’m so, so sorry,” Ratchet apologized. Then he whirled around, pinning the Twins with an icy glare. “Just what were the two of you thinking?!”

                Sideswipe shrunk back against his brother, while Sunstreaker glared right back. “I… I don’t think I was, really,” Sideswipe said, ducking his head. “I just felt someone over us, over you, and I reacted.” His optics flicked up to the shakily standing science student. “I’m real sorry, Wheeljack. I didn’t know it was you.”

                “No, no harm done,” Wheeljack insisted. “Don’t be mad at them, Ratch. Old instincts die hard, and they were just trying to protect you. Looks like you’ve been adopted!”

                **Just like you seem to have adopted them** , he added in a private communications to Ratchet. Ratchet could feel his faceplates heating up as Wheeljack continued. **You three were adorable, all curled up together. I was just getting closer to make a recording.**

Sideswipe pushed at Sunstreaker and then both sat on the edge of Ratchet’s berth, eyeing the two roommates warily. “I’m really sorry,” Sideswipe repeated.

                Wheeljack waived a dismissive hand through the air and sat on his own bunk. “It’s all right. But that kind of leads me into why I came up. Prowl commed me. He’s escorting a YPS agent here; they’ll arrive in a few minutes.”

                Ratchet’s optics widened, and he instantly felt the tension in the room escalate.

                “Now? Already?”

                “I think that they were supposed to meet up with you last night, but they couldn’t find you at the Academy. What… what are you going to do?” Wheeljack asked, glancing between Ratchet and the Twins.

                Ratchet glanced around the room wildly. Sideswipe stared up at him hopefully, and Sunstreaker looked away, an alertness drawing his frame up tight.

                “I’m not sure. Ideas welcome,” Ratchet replied, darting around the room and neatening the piles of datapads and other belongings. Sunstreaker pulled out a cloth out of subspace and began polishing his brother, despite Sideswipe’s annoyed expression.

                “Uh…” Wheeljack’s helmfins flashed a rainbow of colors as his processor whirled. “Do you know any one wealthy?”

                “You know I don’t,” Ratchet said, his own processor working madly.

                Before Wheeljack could say anything else, there was a ping at the door. Everyone froze, staring at it. Ratchet whirled around to see Sideswipe and Sunstreaker leaning close to each other, a belligerent set to Sunstreaker’s expression that didn’t bode well.

                Ratchet heaved out a gust of air and smiled reassuringly at his temporary wards. Then he turned, the smile falling from his face and answered the door.

                Prowl’s now familiar frame stood on the other side, his optics meeting Ratchet’s impassively. “Ratchet,” Prowl said, nodding a greeting. “The Youngling Protection Services have sent Farwind here to act as an agent for Sideswipe and Sunstreaker’s future care. I have come along as witness since I handled TopNotch’s arrest.” A smallish mech emerged from behind Prowl, dusky blue with a data pad in his long fingers.

                “Hello. Welcome, come on in,” Ratchet said, ushering the two officials into the room. After a moment of confusion, Prowl elected to stand near the door, and Farwind gingerly sat on Wheeljack’s berth. Ratchet sat down next to Sideswipe and was surprised when the red mech’s hand found the medic’s and wound their fingers together even as Sideswipe pressed closed to his brother.

                “Hello there,” Farwind began, gracing them all with a gentle smile. “Wheeljack, yes?” he asked the science student standing off to Ratchet’s side. “And are you and Ratchet…” he suggested.

                “Oh, no, no! We’re just roommates and good friends,” Wheeljack hurried to explain.

                “Wheeljack identified the device that was inhibiting the Twins,” Ratchet said.

                “I see, I see,” Farwind said, making a note on his data pad. “Well, I have read Prowl’s report, including all of your statements. I am truly sorry,” he said, gazing on the Twins, “that you had such an experience. I can only hope that the YPS will somehow be able to make up for it in some small part by providing for you until you reach your adult years.

                “Now.  I’ve got two foster families who are willing to take you on and…”

                “Wait,” Ratchet said, interrupting the agent. “Two families? As in separate them?” At his side, Sideswipe made a small noise of distress.

                Farwind leaned back a little, optics roving over the brothers. “Please keep in mind that they are nearly grown mechs, and it is very difficult to provide for one new frame let alone two.”

                Ratchet shook his head violently. “No. No, that is unacceptable. They’re twins. Spark-split twins who have just emerged from a traumatic experience. Separating them is against medical advice.”

                Farwind looked down at his datapad, frowning. “You are a veterinary medic, are you not?”

                “Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

                “They are mechs, not beast drones,” Farwind pointed out.

                “They are triple changers whose third form is canine in nature. No matter what form they are in, the fact remains that they should not be separated. _Any_ medic would tell you that,” Ratchet replied, glaring.

                Farwind’s noseplates wrinkled a little. “That may be so, but finding someone who is willing…”

                “What are the requirements to becoming a foster?” Ratchet asked, interrupting. 

                Prowl shifted minutely by the door, his optics considering as he looked at Ratchet. The medic dismissed Prowl’s interest and refocused on Farwind.

                “You do not qualify.”

                Ratchet straightened and something in the way he was sitting made Wheeljack step forward and place a hand on the medic’s shoulder. “Ratch…” he cautioned.

                “I _asked_ what the qualifications were,” Ratchet replied, tone frosty.

                Looking highly offended, Farwind let the datapad drop to his lap. “The ability to provide shelter, for one. And unless you have additional housing elsewhere, this,” he said, gesturing to the dorm room, “will not suffice.”

                “I…” Ratchet floundered for a moment. “If I managed more suitable housing? What else?”

                “I don’t see the point in th…”

                “What else?” Ratchet insisted.

                Heaving a sigh, Farwind continued. “There would be a small supplemental support, but the foster must meet certain financial qualifications. Your residency is not paid, yes?”

                “Yes, but…”

                “You do not meet the qualifications, sir,” Farwind said, peering down the length of his nasal plates. “You did a great deed in freeing these children, but they are no longer your responsibility. The state has charged _me_ with finding them suitable homes.”

                “We’re not leaving with you,” Sunstreaker said flatly.

                Farwind turned his attention to the yellow twin. “I’m sorry. You’ve obviously formed an attachment to this mech, but he would not be able to support your care.”

                “He doesn’t need to; we can manage on our own. You can’t force us to do anything,” Sunstreaker replied, his frame tensing as if about to leap across the berths and attack the agent.

                Ratchet released Sideswipe’s hand and reaching behind Sideswipe’s back, laid fingers on the closest part of Sunstreaker which happened to be his elbow joint. Sunstreaker relaxed fractionally, but still remained watchful.

                “We won’t go,” Sideswipe promised. “We’re staying with Ratchet.”

                Farwind opened his mouthplates, but paused when Prowl spoke up. “I might have a suggestion,” he offered. Every one present looked up at him in surprise.

                “Ratchet. A word?” Prowl asked, gesturing to the door. Ratchet and Wheeljack exchanged glances before Ratchet stood and followed the Enforcer out the door.

                “You said you might have a suggestion?” Ratchet asked as soon as the door swung shut. He pressed himself up against the wall, arms crossed over his chassis defensively.

                “The local office has a squad of dog mechs that we use frequently for assorted purposes. At one time, we had a vet medic on staff, but he left to pursue other interests. The position remains open. It would be part time, so compensation would not be extravagant but on top of the YPS stipend, it should be enough to fulfill the foster qualifications.

                “I also know of a colleague who owns a residence building and is looking for boarders. It is roughly equidistant between the Veterinary Academy and the precinct. Since you would be working for the Enforcers, he is willing to discount the rent. One of the other boarders is a tutor and seems eager to help bring the twins up to speed, also for a nominal fee. I believe that this would help out your situation quite a bit.  Does that sound satisfactory?”

                Ratchet stood and gaped at the Enforcer. “Sa...satisfactory? Are you… that’s… _why_?”

                Prowl’s lipplates lifted in a small smile. “You did an admirable thing, and the mechlings more than deserve a second chance. Wheeljack has told me how close you and the Twins have become. I think that it is in their best interests to remain with someone who cares for them.”

                “I… you…” Ratchet paused and shook his head in bemusement. “Thank you. And I would still be able to attend the Academy, correct?”

                “Yes, I anticipate the occasional conflict, but you can do your Enforcer work in the evenings after your rotations. The Chief has already spoken with the Academy president, and they both find the arrangement agreeable if you do. The president speaks very highly of you.”

                Once more, Ratchet was taken back. “I… _when_ did you have time to arrange all this?”

                “After speaking with Farwind, I began communicating with my fellows. Everything fell into place quiet neatly, actually,” Prowl said with a little gleam in his optics.

                “Let me talk with the twins, but I’m pretty sure that we’ll do it,” Ratchet said. He reached out a hand and grasped Prowl’s forearm. “Thank you,” he said fervently. “I really mean that.”

                Prowl nodded genteelly. “I look forward to hearing about their progress,” he said. “I shall send the twins out so you can speak with them, while I explain to Farwind.” Ratchet grinned at the emphasis on the ‘explain’. It appeared that Prowl didn’t like the stuck up YPS agent either.

                The Enforcer entered the room and a moment later the twins exited. They spotted Ratchet, and Sideswipe immediately crowded close to the medic while Sunstreaker hung back.

                “What did he say? That agent guy seems upset,” Sideswipe said, fidgeting.

                “Prowl offered an alternative,” Ratched said, “and I think it’s a good one.” Ratchet proceeded to explain Prowl’s offer and with every new word, Sunstreaker fractionally relaxed, and Sideswipe started to vibrate in excitement.

                “This sounds great! Are you going to do it?” Sideswipe asked.

                Ratchet’s intakes took in a deep draught of air. “Well, that depends on you two. This should be your decision as well. Just because I helped get you out of TopNotch’s compound doesn’t mean you have to stick around. We’ve only know each other for a few days. I work a lot, I have a horrible temper…” Ratchet paused and looked to the side. “You might be better off with someone else…”

                “Do you… do you not want us?” Sideswipe asked, and Ratchet looked up to see the red mech staring back with wide, hurt optics. Ratchet’s spark skipped a beat at the downtrodden expression.

                “Yes! No!” Ratchet corrected hurridly at Sunstreaker’s growl. “I mean, yes, I want you both, but…oomph! Red! Get off!”

                Ratchet flailed wildly as Sideswipe took that as permission to launch himself into Ratchet’s arms, peppering the vet’s faceplates with kisses and purring happily.

                “Sunstreaker… Sunny…” Ratchet said, watching as the yellow triple changer took a step closer. “What do you think?”

                Sunstreaker watched as Sideswipe make a fool of himself. Then his attention turned to Ratchet and his look became pointed. It didn’t take much for Ratchet interpret the expression. After the previous night’s events, the medic knew that Sunstreaker wanted a home as much as Sideswipe did. But the yellow mech was more wary, and rightfully so. Ratchet slowly nodded, acknowledging Sunstreaker’s concerns.

                Sunstreaker’s tension left him in a shrug of nonchalance. “Could be worse.”

                Sideswipe leaned back and snagged his brother’s arm, pulling him into a three way embrace, despite Sunstreaker’s half-hearted snarl.

                “It’s already been worse, Sunny. It’s only gonna get better. You’ll see,” Sideswipe promised, hands tight on both Ratchet’s and Sunstreaker’s waists.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet signs paperwork. The Trio move into their new apartment and meet a new character. Angst as evidence of the Twins' emotional trauma surface.  
> \--

                Several hours later, and Ratchet felt even more overwhelmed. Becoming a Caretaker was more intensive than he had originally anticipated. A string of paperwork was interrupted by a physical exam for both the medic and the Twins, which none of them appreciated. More paperwork followed until the twins were fidgeting and Ratchet had to fight to rein in his temper. It was a whirlwind of new faceplates and datapads and by the end of the day, all Ratchet wanted to do was plop down on his berth and recharge for a week.

                But instead, he manhandled Sideswipe down onto Ratchet’s bed.

                “But, Ratchet…!” Sideswipe whined. “I feel fine!”

                Ratchet pushed until Sideswipe settled on his front, and then Ratchet activated his optical scanners. “Sure. You feel fine now. But the instant you overextend yourself, you’ll be crawling back to me for help. And I do mean crawling. If these struts go out, you won’t be able to walk.”

                The vet carefully prodded each individual spinal strut, leaning close to scan their structural integrity. Ratchet then manipulated Sideswipe’s healing hip and thigh while the red mech placidly gazed up at Ratchet.

                “What are we doing after this?” Sideswipe asked.

                Ratchet paused and then looked askance at the triple changer. “After this?”

                “Yeah. Are there any more datapads we have to sign, or are we done now?” Sunstreaker asked, leaning against the closet wall. He sounded a little annoyed. Not that Ratchet could blame him. He was a little annoyed himself at the amount of hoops he had had to jump through today.

                “No. I think Farwind said that that would be everything. But we do have to pack up my things here and head over to the new housing unit.” Ratchet sighed. “I suppose there will be more datapads to sign there as well.”

                “Hn,” Sunstreaker grunted, coming over and sitting on the edge of the berth. Sideswipe stuck his glossa out at Sunstreaker when he pushed Sideswipe farther against the wall and then ignored him, focusing back on Ratchet.

                “How many rooms are we getting?”

                Ratchet patted Sideswipe on the hip to indicate he was done, and the red mech propped himself up on an elbow. “I’m not entirely sure,” Ratchet admitted. “Prowl alluded that it would be larger than my dorm room at least.”

                Sunstreaker snorted and lay back, leaning against Sideswipe’s chassis. “That’s not saying much.”

                Eyeing their point of contact and determining that Sunstreaker actually wasn’t resting his full weight against his brother, Ratchet nodded. “True. Well, the sooner we get started, the sooner we can finish for the day. You should be all right for a walk of that distance,” he told Sideswipe, standing.

                “Let me pack my things, and we can head out.”

\--

                Sideswipe made a movement to get up, but Sunstreaker leaned back more fully. _Stay there_ , Sunstreaker commanded.

                _We should help,_ Sideswipe protested.

                Sunstreaker gave a small shake of his head. _If he wants us to help, he can ask. I wouldn’t appreciate a stranger going through my belongings. Besides, you’re hurting._

Sideswipe sighed and slumped back against the bed. _Sorry,_ he said, strengthening the block on his side of their bond.

                _Shut it. You’re healing. Give it time._

 _But I want to_ move, Sideswipe whined, restlessness making him twitchy.

                Sunstreaker nodded. _I know, me too. We haven’t had a fight in almost a week. It’s… odd._

 _Yeah. I mean, I don’t wanna go back to that. I like being with Ratchet. But in a way, I kinda do miss the fights,_ Sideswipe mused.

                _Once you’re better we’ll spar again,_ Sunstreaker reassured his brother.

                _Is this really going to happen?_  Sideswipe asked in one of his quicksilver changes of topic. His optics were avidly following Ratchet around the small room as the vet medic organized his belongings.

                _Seems that way. It’s what you want, isn’t it?_

Sideswipe leaned forward, pressing his cheek against the point of Sunstreaker’s shoulder. His glossa peeked out, making a quick swipe against his brother’s armor; a gesture carried over from their dog forms.

                _It’s what_ we _want,_ Sideswipe replied decisively.

\--

                “Well… this is… interesting,” Ratchet commented, flanked on both sides by a twin and staring up at the monstrosity in front of them. It was not a pretty building; squat and discolored and seemingly out of place amidst the newer, taller, and shinier buildings around it, it sat and looked back with a gimlet stare.

                “Are you sure this is the right address?” Sideswipe asked.           

                Ratchet checked his data banks for the fourth time. “This is what Prowl sent me.”

                Sunstreaker abruptly turned and began walking back the way they came. “I’m not living here. It’s ugly.”

                “Sunny!” Sideswipe exclaimed and grabbed his brother’s arm, swinging Sunstreaker back around. “I’m sure it’s better on the inside.” But even Sideswipe sounded doubtful. 

                “You think so?” the white and black mech asked.

                “Well, I guess there’s only one way to…” Ratchet trailed off, staring down at the slim mech that had suddenly appeared at Ratchet’s side. “Uh… who are you?” he asked, too bemused to do anything but stare.

                Similarly surprised at the other’s appearance, Sunstreaker stiffened and a low growl rumbled up from deep in his chassis.

                The mech gave a little half turn and landed directly in front of Ratchet, hand outstretched. “Nice to meetcha. I’m Jazz. Proud owner of this beauty,” he said, gesturing behind him.

                Ratchet slowly extended his hand and had it vigorously shaken.  “Pleasure. I’m…”

                “Ratchet! Sideswipe,” he said, pointing to the red mech, “and Sunstreaker.” His finger moved to the bristling triple changer. “Prowl told me all about you.”

                “You know Prowl?” Ratchet asked, trying hard to reconcile the energetic and bubby mech in front of him with the solid, calm Enforcer.

                “Oh yeah! We’re like this!” Jazz exclaimed and pressed his palms together tightly. “We’ve known each other since we were barely more than sparklings, and now we work together.”

                “You’re an Enforcer?” Sunstreaker asked with narrowed optics as he visibly reassessed Jazz.

                The mech nodded, beginning to step backwards and motioning the trio to follow. “Sure am. All of us here are. You probably won’t be meeting too many of them just yet. The evening duty shift just started, so actually it’s an excellent time to get settled in. Come on, I’ll show you your rooms!”

                Buoyed along by Jazz’s enthusiasm, they followed him into the building. Surprisingly, the inside _was_ better looking than the outside. Oh, things were a bit worn around the edges, but everything was spotlessly clean and cheerful pieces of artwork dotted the walls and corners. Sunstreaker paused to examine one such vibrant painting as they walked across the lobby.

                Jazz immediately noticed and backtracked, sidling up next to Sunstreaker. “Nice one, huh? A good friend of mine dabbles a bit.”

                Sunstreaker glanced at the Enforcer and then back at the painting. “It’s all right,” he said dismissively and moved to stand just behind Ratchet. Jazz shrugged and continued forward, moving up the stairs located at the far end of the lobby.

                “The lift is temporarily out of order,” Jazz mentioned, motioning with one hand off to the left. “But the building is only four stories, so no one’s really been complaining. You three will have this half,” he said, waving his right hand, “of the third floor. Ironhide will be your neighbor on the left. Smokescreen, Bluestreak, and Prowl all share the top floor loft. My apartment is downstairs behind the office, and Hound and Mirage have the second floor. Your apartment is the only one in the building that has two berthrooms.”

                The foursome arrived on the third floor and turned to the door on the right. Jazz tapped in a code on the door lock and turned to Ratchet. “You’ll be free to change your code; just let me know what it is in case there’s an emergency, and I have to get in.”

                Jazz slid the door to the side and stepped in, Ratchet and Twins following behind closely.

                “So this is the common room,” Jazz said, stepping into the middle of the room and slowly twirling around with his arms out. “The apartment comes minimally furnished. Things may be a little worn around the edges, but still very serviceable.”

                Sideswipe immediately beelined to the couch and plopped down, throwing himself across it with a grin. “Sure is!” he proclaimed.

                Sunstreaker glanced at his brother, an exasperated expression blooming. “It’s not ours yet,” he chided.

                Sideswipe shrugged. “Pick out a good room,” he said, waving nonchalantly and making himself comfortable.

                Sunstreaker frowned a little but nodded and followed when Jazz motioned them down the hall and into the left handed berthroom. They entered, Sunstreaker and the medic crowding along one wall as Jazz showed them the amenities.

                “Sorry, like I said, this is the only apartment with two berthrooms, so they end up being a little small,” Jazz explained.

                Sunstreaker leaned down to speak quietly into Ratchet’s audio as Jazz continued, babbling something about taking down the walls.

                “Sideswipe hurts,” Sunstreaker murmured. “Don’t,” he said grabbing Ratchet’s arm as the vet immediately turned to attend to his patient, “panic,” Sunstreaker finished. “I made him stay put, but he’s probably going to need his pain meds sooner rather than later. He’s kind of a wimp,” he said, scoffing a little.

                “His spinal struts were completely broken,” Ratchet said, fretting. He craned his neck to look back into the common room. “He has the right to complain.”

                Sunstreaker shrugged. “He won’t. Not to you, anyway.” The large yellow mech gave Ratchet a significant look and then followed the still rambling Jazz out of the room.

                Ratchet frowned, trailing after the other two. He sidestepped out of the hallway to peer into the common room. Sideswipe was still lying on the couch, injured leg elevated on the couch arm while his uninjured foot tapped lightly against the floor. Ratchet ducked back into the hallways and peeked his head into the second room, seeing that it was identical to the first, and then hustled back out into the common room.

                Kneeling down next to Sideswipe’s side, he pulled his mobile kit out of subspace, his scanners noticing Sideswipe’s slightly increased ventilations and sparkbeat.

                “You need to tell me when you’re hurting,” Ratchet scolded. He reached for Sideswipe’s arm and opened the port in the bend of the elbow joint.

                “I’m fine,” Sideswipe protested, although his expression fell as Sunstreaker strode up behind Ratchet and stood with his arms crossed over his chassis. “Traitor,” Sideswipe mumbled.

               “You ok there, mech?” Jazz asked, coming to a stop next to Sunstreaker. A concerned expression flitted over his faceplates. “Need me to get you anything?”

               “He’s good,” Sunstreaker said, angling to loom over the smaller mech.

               Jazz glanced up at Sunstreaker with a small smile, undeterred. “Glad to hear it.” He turned back to Ratchet. “I’ll give you a few minutes to think things over. Come grab me when you’ve decided.” He gave Sunstreaker one more amused look and then left the room, the door sliding shut quietly behind him.

              “Probably not a good idea to antagonize our building manager,” Ratchet commented mildly, concentrating on injecting the pain medication into Sideswipe’s port.

              “He needs to mind his own business,” Sunstreaker growled.

              “He’s just being nice, Sunny,” Sideswipe said, voice drawling a little as the medication began to flood his energon lines. Ratchet frowned again as Sideswipe abruptly slumped, his tension wires relaxing. “Oooh, that’s good.”

              “Looks like we’re definitely taking the apartment,” Ratchet said, optics roving over Sideswipe’s limp form. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get you up and walking for another few hours.”

              “I can walk,” Sideswipe said, struggling to sit up. Ratchet and Sunstreaker moved forward as one to push Sideswipe back down.

              “Stay with your brother, please,” Ratchet said to Sunstreaker, standing. “I’m going to go find Jazz and make whatever arrangements are necessary. Any objections?”

              Sunstreaker glanced around once more before shrugging. “It’ll do.”

              “You like it,” Sideswipe said in a singsong voice, pointing. He giggled a little, and Ratchet’s alarmed processor went over the dog’s medication calculation one more time. “I can feel it in my head.”

              “You’re an idiot,” Sunstreaker proclaimed. He sat down on the edge of the couch, and Sideswipe squirmed until his helm rested firmly in his brother’s lap. “Go. I’ll keep him from damaging himself.”

              Nodding, Ratchet stood and made his way out of the room, his footsteps ringing in the silence of the hall and stairway. He found Jazz loitering in the lobby, straightening some of the artwork on the walls. The lease signing turned out to be much easier than the rest of the paperwork he had had to do that day and in short order, he made his way back up to his new apartment.

              He entered the generic code that Jazz had given him, and the door slid to the side. The twins were missing from the couch, and Ratchet had a moment of panic before he heard voices from one of the berthrooms. He followed the sound and knocked against the doorframe of the left hand door before entering.

              Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were smashed together on the narrow berth, Sunstreaker teetering close to the edge in order to give his brother more room. Sideswipe raised his head and waved sleepily.

              “We claim this room,” Sideswipe announced.

              Ratchet critically surveyed the berth and noticed that it was not attached to the wall. “That’s fine. I think we should be able to move the second berth in so you two can have more room.”

              “What will you use?” Sunstreaker asked.

              Shrugging, Ratchet pointed this thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll pull the couch in from the common room.”

              “Nooooo,” Sideswipe whined. “It’s so comfortable. It needs to stay out there.”

              Sunstreaker swatted his brother’s shoulder. “He needs to rest on something.”

              “He can recharge with us,” Sideswipe announced, smiling dopily.

               Sunstreaker vented a large amount of air. “I changed my mind; don’t give him any more pain medications. It makes him stupid. Well… more stupid,” he amended.

              "You're stupid,” Sideswipe retorted, and Ratchet smiled at the sparkling-like tone. 

              “All right, scraplets,” Ratchet said, raising his voice before the two escalated. “Get some rest, Red. I’m going to unpack my things and get settled in.”

              Sunstreaker shifted and batted at Sideswipe’s clutching hands when he stood. “I’ll move the berth and the couch.”

              “They’re pretty heavy; let me help you,” Ratchet said, following after his ward as Sunstreaker moved into the hall.

              Sunstreaker glanced over his shoulder, giving Ratchet’s frame a dismissive glance. “I think I got it.”

              Bristling, Ratchet trailed Sunstreaker into the second room and moved to assist him. But then Ratchet fell back when Sunstreaker easily hefted the berth over one shoulder and gave him a stare.

              "I told you I had it,” Sunstreaker said.

              “I see that.” Ratchet frowned. “You’re still recovering as well. You shouldn’t be over extending yourself.”

              “I’ve been in much worse condition, having to do way more.”

              “You’re not in that place any more. You don’t have to...”

              “I know my limits,” Sunstreaker said brusquely and abruptly moved forward, making Ratchet dance out of the way.

              Ratchet followed Sunstreaker, watching him lower the berth and shove it up against the one Sideswipe was lying on. Sunstreaker immediately turned and headed back out into the common room. The vet medic made to go after him, but Sideswipe’s voice make Ratchet still.

              “He doesn’t when he’s worked up. But he’s not right now, so he won’t hurt himself,” Sideswipe remarked.

              “What are you talking about?” Ratchet asked, staring at the red mech in confusion.

               Sideswipe’s optics slid closed. “Sunny’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. And he thinks he should take care of you.”

              “ _I’m_ supposed to be taking care of _you_ ; not the other way around!” Ratchet retorted.

              “That first day, you walked right up to us. If you treat every situation like that, I think you could use some backup,” Sunstreaker said, reentering the room. 

              “You were injured!” Ratchet protested. “I needed to treat you.”

              “Sides almost attacked you. I certainly tried, and I would have offlined you if he hadn’t stopped me,” Sunstreaker said matter of factly. “You don’t exactly have the  strongest armor.”

              “It’s enough to protect me from fractious patients,” Ratchet explained.

              “From companion mutts, maybe, but not us. Even the rest of the fodder in the rings could take you down,” Sunstreaker scoffed, tone challenging.

               Ratchet didn’t know what possessed him to do it; likely hours of a building frustration and uncertainty regarding the situation that finally hit a boiling point. But one second, he was staring at Sunstreaker’s dismissive expression, and the next there was a ringing in the room and a dent in Sunstreaker’s helm.

               “Listen, youngling,” Ratchet growled, shaking the wrench he held in Sunstreaker’s face. “I can fragging well take care of myself, and don’t you forget it!”

               Sunstreaker snarled, his lovely faceplates twisting with rage. He straightened, looming over the shorter medic, but Ratchet refused to back down, instead staring at Sunstreaker optic to optic. After a moment, a look of confusion and fear passed over Sunstreaker’s faceplates, and he took a step backwards.

               Ratchet subspaced his wrench immediately, spark heavy with the realization of what he’d done. “Oh, bitlet,” he sighed, reaching out to touch the dent. Sunstreaker flinched, but then pressed his helm into Ratchet’s probing fingers.

               “I’m sorry,” the medic said quietly. “I’m tired and cranky, and my temper often gets the best of me.”

                Sunstreaker huffed a little, and a shudder passed over him. “You can hit me,” he offered, optics downcast. “I can take it.”

               Ratchet lunged forward, yanking Sunstreaker against him and gripping him fiercely. Stretching his neck, he was able to bring his mouth up against Sunstreaker’s audios.

               “Don’t,” Ratchet hissed. “You’re not here to be my punching bag. You’re here so I can care of you and love you, and no one is ever going to mistreat you again, including me.” Ratchet leaned back and placed his hands on either side of Sunstreaker’s helm, directing the youngling’s distressed optics to face his own.

               “Do you understand me?”

               Sunstreaker opened his lipplates, but nothing came out but a breathy whine. He pulled himself out of Ratchet’s embrace, took a step backward and transformed. The lean shape of his dog form emerged, and he pressed himself against Ratchet’s legs, licking frantically at the medic’s hands.

                Ratchet stared down at the dog nearly pushing him over and ran his hands over the gleaming head, stroking the audio flaps. Ratchet found that his ventilations were shaky, his hands trembling, and he wondered again just what he had gotten himself into.

 


	4. Chapter 4

               As the drugs wore off, Sideswipe was more able to feel the turmoil Sunstreaker was experiencing. In some ways, Sideswipe pitied his brother. From the beginning, Sunstreaker had thrown himself into the role of a simple beast. It was as if Sunstreaker had felt that being a dog was all he was worth. Yet buried deep, he had always yearned for more. And now, he so desperately wanted to please Ratchet, the mech who had taken one look at the two of them and decided they both were worth everything.

               Sideswipe sighed and gently laid his hand on Sunstreaker’s shoulder. The yellow mech had refused to transform back or speak with Ratchet over private lines. Instead he had laved Ratchet’s hands until they shone with oral lubricant and then slunk to the berth, crawling up on it and curling against Sideswipe’s belly.

              The red mech had met Ratchet’s optics over Sunstreaker’s shivering form and had shrugged. Sideswipe didn’t know how to explain that Sunstreaker had actually benefited from the unintended show of dominance. By rising to the challenge, Ratchet had given Sunstreaker structure, a place in their makeshift pack. Sunstreaker knew pack hierarchy; it had been shoved down their intakes since day one. But outside affection and love… that kept confusing Sunstreaker.

              Sunstreaker allowed Sideswipe to stroke his shoulder for a few seconds before tensing and sliding off the berth. His claws made quiet clicking sounds as he paced in the confines of the room.

_Sunny…_

_I ruined it. I fragging ruined it,_ Sunstreaker said, despair coloring his words. It was so at odds with his normal confidence and swagger that a thrill of fear slid down Sideswipe’s spinal struts.

 _You didn’t ruin anything,_ Sideswipe replied as confidently as he could manage.

_You saw his faceplates! He’s regretting this already. Just like our creator. I always make them hate me._

              Sideswipe propped himself up on his elbow, his optics following his brother’s movements. _Creator didn’t hate you. He just… couldn’t take care of us._

 _You mean_ me _. He couldn’t take care of_ me _. I was the one without a frame. Yours was ready and waiting for you._ Sideswipe felt Sunstreaker’s block on their bond waver and then crumble. Sideswipe reeled at the overwhelming emotions, floundering in the self hate and bitterness.

 _I might as well go back to the rings.  I’m only good for fighting and killing,_ Sunstreaker continued, not even aware that his block had failed.

 _That’s not true. I don’t know what else you’re good at. I don’t know what_ I’m _good at, but we’re going to get the chance to find out. Ratchet wants us._ Both _of us,_ Sideswipe stressed.

 **Ratchet,** Sideswipe sent, seeking out confirmation for his words. He got an immediate reply.

 **Red? What’s wrong?** Ratchet asked, and Sideswipe heard the faint creaking of the couch next door as the vet rose. His footsteps came into the hall and drew closer until he stood in the center of the doorway.

              Sunstreaker caught sight of him and immediately cowered, his tail balancer waving weakly.

             To his credit, Ratchet didn’t act as if anything was wrong. “Can’t sleep? I know I’m having difficulty falling into recharge myself,” he said. “I’ve had a roommate for so long, it’s odd not to hear someone else’s ventilations.”

             The vet walked into the room, and Sideswipe drew up his legs to make room as Ratchet sat at the end of the berth. “Are the berths wide enough for you both?”

             Sideswipe nodded, optics wide. “Yeah,” he said, surprised to hear how filled with static his voice was. 

             “You know, you might be right about me recharging with you. That couch is not as comfortable as you say it is,” Ratchet said, leaning back against the wall and eyeing Sunstreaker. “You gonna come up, Sunny?”

             Ratchet scooted over, and Sideswipe eagerly pressed into his side, optics slitting in pleasure as the medic’s arm slipped over Sideswipe’s shoulder. His engine purred a bit, plating singing at the contact. Sideswipe was not afraid to admit to himself that Ratchet’s touch was quickly becoming addicting. 

             Sunstreaker wavered back and forth on his paws, optics flicking around the room. He whined, a pitiful sound that made Sideswipe twitch and fight to reach out to his twin. Sunstreaker knew that _Sideswipe_ loved him. It was the very foundation of their bond. But Sunstreaker still needed convincing that Ratchet cared as well. Sideswipe suspected that Sunstreaker would need constant reassurance for a long time. 

               “Sunny, come on. It’ll help me recharge,” Ratchet said, patting the free space on the berth next to him. Faced with a near order, Sunstreaker leapt onto the bed. He teetered in the small space, finally draping himself over Ratchet’s lap, one rear limb dangling off the edge of the bed. Ratchet laid a hand on Sunstreaker’s helm, and he vented a large amount of air in a sigh.

                Over the bond, Sideswipe felt Sunstreaker’s upset begin to subside, Ratchet’s presence and touch a calming influence. Sideswipe himself began to relax now that his twin’s emotions were no longer screaming through the bond.

                **What was this all about, Red?** Ratchet asked quietly.

                Sideswipe shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Would he be betraying his brother if he divulged Sunstreaker’s emotions and thoughts?

                **You… you still want us, right?**

Ratchet’s head turned, and he gazed at Sideswipe. The vet’s hands never stopped their comforting motion over Sunstreaker’s helm. **Of course I do.** **Why would you think I wouldn’t?**

Sideswipe’s optics slipped to the side. **You need to tell Sunny that. Like, all the time,** Sideswipe said and left it there.

                Ratchet’s optics narrowed in thought. **I can do that. What about you?**

Sideswipe’s optics blinked several times. **What about me?**

**What do I have to do to make you believe me?**

Sunstreaker’s head rose as he felt Sideswipe’s surge of surprise. Sideswipe reached out automatically and stroked the top of Sunstreaker’s muzzle in reassurance.

                **I believe you. But I like the hugging. And the ear scratches. And the belly rubs,** Sideswipe suggested shyly.

                Ratchet chuckled. “Of course you do.” His hand stilled for a moment before resuming its stroking. “I would do it all over again if I had to. I mean that. Now that you’re here, I can’t imagine not having you two in my life,” he murmured. 

                Sunstreaker gave a short, sharp bark, lifting his head and licking the tip of Ratchet’s chin. Sideswipe smiled at the disgruntled look on Ratchet’s faceplates.

                “He agrees, by the way.”

                “I’m glad,” Ratchet said, grinning a little. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us; a lot of things to adjust to.

                “Tomorrow we’re going to meet your tutor,” Ratchet mentioned, shifting under the twins’ combined weight. “While you’re with him, I’ll be going over to meet the Chief of the precinct and sign some more datapads. Jazz promised to introduce us to the rest of the tenants as well.”

                Sideswipe reflexively clutched Ratchet tighter. “Will you be gone long?”

                “I shouldn’t be. Starting in two days, I’ll be gone for the majority of the day, however. You won’t be with the tutor all day, so you’ll have to find ways to amuse yourself. Any ideas?”

                “Not sure. Movies, maybe?”     

                _Art supplies._

Sideswipe cocked his head to the side and stared down at his brother. “What?”

                _Something to draw with,_ Sunstreaker repeated.

                Sideswipe looked up to meet Ratchet’s inquisitive look. “He wants some art supplies.”

                Ratchet’s optic ridge rose in curiosity. “Do you draw, Sunstreaker?”

                Sideswipe shook his head. “He hasn’t before, but he wants to try. That’s neat, Sunny.  I want to try too.” Privately, Sideswipe rejoiced at the spontaneous interest his brother showed in something that wasn’t about polishing his paintjob or ripping apart a drone.

                “Well, then movies and art supplies it is. But I think we should get some rest. It’s only a few more hours before we have to get up,” Ratchet said, gently nudging Sideswipe away. The three of them rearranged themselves, Sunstreaker lying across Ratchet’s lower legs and Sideswipe curled up against Ratchet’s side. Even with the second berth, it was a tight fit, but Sideswipe couldn’t care less. He was warm and safe and finally where he was meant to be. 

\--

                Ratchet came out of recharge long before the twins. They had barely moved during the night and were still wound tightly around him, Sunstreaker even going as far as to creep up to lay his head on Ratchet’s chassis. 

                The vet medic stroked Sunstreaker’s helm, gazing down at him with saddened optics. It was becoming more and more obvious that the Twins had deep-seated issues from their forced form lock and imprisonment. Ratchet thanked Primus that they at least been together. He couldn’t imagine what they would be like if they had been isolated from one another.

                Sideswipe twitched in his recharge. He moaned quietly as he squirmed closer, hiding his faceplates against Ratchet’s neck. Ratchet reminded himself that he would shortly have to give Sideswipe another dose of pain medications. He vowed to decrease the dose a little. As amusing as a dopey Sideswipe was, Ratchet didn’t want Sideswipe hurting himself because of lack of coordination.

                Ratchet sighed again. He hadn’t been lying last night. The future was going to be a lot of work, but he resolutely pushed doubt aside. Primus seemed to be smiling down on them for the moment; Ratchet just hoped that He would continue to do so.

\--

                Sideswipe roused from recharge abruptly, frame loose and optics offlined. He extended his senses, trying to figure out why he had been woken so suddenly, but Sunstreaker answered for him.

                _Ratchet left_ , he informed Sideswipe.

                _Ratchet left_?! Sideswipe cried, bolting upright, looking around wildly.

                Sunstreaker sat up as well and stretched, back arching low. _The berth. He left the berth. He’s out in the common room, you freak._

                Sure enough, he found that now that he processed the data, his audios had been picking up faint sounds from the other room for several minutes now. Sideswipe dropped back down the berth, willing his sparkbeat to slow.

                _Oh. Is everything all right?_

Sunstreaker shrugged, an odd motion in dog form. _Didn’t say. Didn’t know I was out of recharge. But so far he’s woken the same time every morning, so he’s probably on an alarm. He’s still here, Sides_ , Sunstreaker said and nosed at Sideswipe’s faceplates in reassurance.

                Sideswipe lightly probed the bond; Sunstreaker’s emotions were much calmer this morning. Doubt and fear still lingered, but threaded through was hope and amazement. Ratchet hadn’t kicked them out or left them; Sunstreaker was clinging tenaciously to that fact.

                “I guess we should get up as well,” Sideswipe said, looking around thoughtfully. He stretched carefully, feeling the ache in his hip and back, but it was much more manageable today. A slight haze of medication still slowed his processor but it too was much better than yesterday.

                Sunstreaker leapt off the bed and transformed, gears and cogs moving swiftly into his root form. He stretched again, tension cables pulling taught in the visible seams while Sideswipe watched with calculating eyes. His brother was truly a handsome mech; Sideswipe had loved to watch Sunstreaker move while as a dog. It seemed that things were no different now that they had their root forms available to them.

                “Need to find the wash racks,” Sunstreaker grunted, brushing at imaginary dirt. Sunstreaker’s gaze transferred to Sideswipe as he stood. Sideswipe patiently let Sunstreaker run inspecting hands along Sideswipe’s frame, enjoying the light touches.

                “We’ll get this color to really shine,” Sunstreaker murmured absently, brushing a thumb across Sideswipe’s chassis.

                Sideswipe’s ventilations caught for a moment, and then he subtly pushed into Sunstreaker’s hands. “Gonna make me pretty?” he purred.

                Sunstreaker smirked. “You already know that you’re pretty.”

                "Not as pretty as you,” Sideswipe returned, placing his hands on his brother’s hips. “Hey. So now that we’ve got all the right equipment, there are some things I’ve wanted to try.”

                Sunstreaker cocked his head to the side, slow smile sliding across his faceplates. Sideswipe was unabashedly projecting his lust across the bond, and it seemed that Sunstreaker was getting the idea pretty quickly.

                “Sounds like a plan,” Sunstreaker replied, lifting his hand to ghost fingers over Sideswipe’s lipplates. Sideswipe flicked his glossa out playfully, low growl bubbling up in his vocalizer. He shivered as he watched his brother’s optics darken.

                The spell broke however when Ratchet stuck his head through the open doorway. “Time to get up! Oh, you’re already up. Good,” he said, bustling into the room. “Here,” he said, shoving a cube of energon apiece at them. “There’s a communal rec room and energon dispenser downstairs; I’ve sent you the code. Washracks are one per floor. Sorry, Sunny,” he said, before Sunstreaker could even say a word.

                “There are two stalls apiece, and they’re actually pretty decently sized,” Ratchet continued, turning and leaving the room. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe exchanged glances and followed their guardian, sipping their cubes.

 _Maybe tonight?_ Sideswipe said, dropping a lingering hand to the Sunstreaker’s lower back struts.

                Sunstreaker arched an optic ridge over his shoulder and smirked. _Maybe. Now quit, we don’t want to scar Ratchet._

                Sideswipe obligingly removed his hand, but remained close to his brother as they walked into the common room. Sideswipe noticed that several pieces of furniture had been shifted around while they had recharged.

                 The desk from Ratchet’s room had been moved out into the common room, directly under the largest window. Several data pads were stacked neatly on the wide surface, one of the pads dimmed and humming. An empty energon cube perched on the desk’s edge gave proof that Ratchet had already consumed his breakfast.

                 “All right, so I’ve been given some good suggestions for shops in the area. We’ll head out for some entertainment items once you’re finished with your fuel. Prowl will be bringing your tutor by mid morning, but we should be done with plenty of time before that.”

                  “Good, then we can hit the washracks before we leave,” Sunstreaker interrupted, throwing back the rest of his cube.

                  Ratchet looked thoughtful and then nodded. “You’ll have time. You know you’re really not…”

                  “Sunny likes to be clean, Ratch,” Sideswipe said, finishing his own cube and heading for the door. His brother followed behind closely. “And we haven’t had access to washracks; a hose down once a month if we were lucky. So we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

                   “Just don’t make a mess,” Ratchet instructed. “And pick up after yourselves!” he said, walking out after them into the hall.

                   There was a bit of a collision just outside their door as Sideswipe came to a halt upon seeing another mech across the hall. The mech was almost completely black with small touches of gray, and he was tall. Sideswipe knew that he and his brother were no slouches; they towered over Ratchet by at least two feet. But this mech was at least a foot taller than them and quite broad across the chassis with thick armor over his entire body.

                   Sideswipe subtly shifted into a defensive stance, his brother automatically mimicking it to his right. Ratchet had to stand on tiptoes to see over their shoulders and made an impatient sound when neither twin moved when he nudged them. 

                   The mech noticed their odd pile up and paused, drying cloth still atop his helm. His optics traveled over each of them, making Sideswipe involuntarily bristle.

                    “Morning,” the mech drawled. “Guess you’re my new neighbors. Prowl told me ‘bout you all. I’m Ironhide.”

                   Ratchet managed to shove his way between the twins, despite Sideswipe’s misgivings. This mech was huge; if he decided he wanted to offline Ratchet, he could probably do it in one hit!

                   “Good morning. I’m Ratchet. And this is Sunstreaker and Sideswipe… my wards,” Ratchet said, introducing them all. Sideswipe noticed a small, surprised smile creep across the medic’s face at his last words as if realizing that they were finally true.

                    “Good to have you aboard,” Ironhide said, nodding a welcome. “Those beast drones sure could use some maintenance.” The Enforcer’s gaze flicked again to each twin.

                    “Well, I’m just about to hit the berth. Nice meeting you all,” He nodded again and keyed in his code to the lock. With one last glance, he disappeared behind his closing door.

                     Ratchet cocked his head, staring at the door until Sideswipe nudged him. “See something you like?” he teased.

                     The vet jumped about a foot in the air and whirled to face them. “No!” Ratchet protested. “I was just wondering what it was about him that set the two of you off.” He leaned his weight on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest expectantly.

                     Sunstreaker shrugged. “Armor,” he said sadly, tapping Ratchet on the shoulder as he brushed by. Sideswipe lingered a moment longer.

                     “Mech’s big,” Sideswipe commented, glancing at the door opposite theirs.

                    “He’s an Enforcer! I doubt he’d attack me for no reason!” Ratchet exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

                     “Maybe. Maybe not. Still our job to protect you,” Sideswipe said.

                      Ratchet’s hands fell to his hips and even though the stance was typical of the Creators he’d seen in the arena stands scolding their sparklings, Sideswipe’s spark still gave a funny little skip before settling back down.

                     “We really need to work on that concept,” Ratchet grumbled. “Go!” he said, shooing Sideswipe after his brother. “Go get cleaned up! I’ll be inside working on some notes. I’ve sent you the new door codes as well. Be back in half an hour and stay out of trouble.”

                      “Trouble?” Sideswipe asked, grinning as he walked backwards. “Us?”

 


	5. Chapter 5

     The rest of the early morning passed uneventfully. Ratchet enjoyed the few minutes of quiet while Sideswipe and Sunstreaker utilized the washracks to catch up on some of his rotation notes. Ratchet got so involved in his datapad, he didn’t notice the Twins entering the apartment until Sideswipe draped himself over Ratchet’s shoulder, not so subtly begging for attention.

     They departed shortly after and traveled to the small shopping district a few streets over. Sideswipe quickly picked out several games and movies while Sunstreaker listened intently to the owner of the crafts shop as he explained the types of art materials to the yellow mech. Sunstreaker finally presented Ratchet with a tablet and stylus as well as charcoal, a variety of paints, and canvas.

     Ratchet inwardly winced at the cost of some of the materials but gladly parted ways with the funds. Sunstreaker held his possessions with an eagerness that Ratchet hadn’t yet seen from his ward, and Ratchet would do almost anything to foster that bright gleam in Sunstreaker’s optics.

     After picking up some soft berth covers and brightly colored pillows, Ratchet gathered up his wards and herded them back to their new home.  The Twins grinned and laughed nearly the entire way back, unknowingly lapsing into their private bond half of the time. Ratchet didn’t particularly care if he got excluded from their conversation; he was content enough to fall back and observe Sideswipe and Sunstreaker’s blooming happiness.

     He wasn’t allowed to linger behind for too long, however. One of the twins would quickly notice that Ratchet was lagging behind, and Sideswipe would physically drag the vet forward, or Sunstreaker would eye Ratchet and motion with his head to keep going.

     All in all, Ratchet deemed it a pretty successful time. When they arrived back to the apartment, Sideswipe quickly piled his goodies in a corner of the common room and sat, pawing through the pile once more. Sunstreaker disappeared into their berthroom only to emerge a moment later with the room’s desk. He placed it opposite Ratchet’s and methodically began arranging his new supplies on the desk’s surface. As the Twins busied themselves, Ratchet spread out the bedding on the berths and took the pillows out into the common room to place on the floor between Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

     “Ooh, thanks, Ratch!” Sideswipe exclaimed and immediately crawled over to the largest pillow, spreading across it with a small sigh.

     Ratchet frowned, watching Sideswipe squirm to get comfortable.

     “Are you in any pain?” Ratchet inquired.

     Sideswipe waved a dismissive hand. “Achy, but nothing I can’t handle.”

     Ratchet knelt in front of the red mech, reaching out a hand to cup Sideswipe’s chin. “I cannot stress how important it is for you to let me know if you’re hurting. I can adjust the medication dosing; I know you dislike it, but discomfort will cause your healing to take longer,” he said quietly.

     Sideswipe’s optics slid to the side, and he fidgeted under Ratchet’s stare. “I know,” he responded. “I _am_ ok. At least for now. Maybe a few more hours?” he asked, hopeful.

     Ratchet nodded, his processor already calculating dosages. “All right. Just be sure to rest.”

     “Not a problem!” Sideswipe announced, holding up one of his new gaming datapads.

     Leaving the Twins to their own devices, Ratchet returned to his notes and for another hour, there was a companionable quiet in the room. They were so engrossed in their respective interests that they all startled when the door chime rang. Sideswipe bolted upright, gaming pad clattering to the floor, while Sunstreaker dropped into a crouch beside his brother, optics darting around.

     “It’s all right,” Ratchet said, his own spark beat rapid in surprise. “It’s probably just Prowl.”

     He got up and moved to the door, opening it to see Prowl standing in the doorway with another, smaller, blue mech standing behind him. Both looked up as the door slid aside, and Prowl nodded in greeting at Ratchet.

     “Ratchet, how have you been settling in?” the Enforcer asked as Ratchet ushered the two mechs inside.

     “Very well, thank you.”

     “Are the rooms satisfactory?”

     “Oh, they’re great. More than enough room for all of us,” Ratchet remarked, shooting Sunstreaker an annoyed glance when the yellow mech snorted not so quietly.

     “Good. This is Smokescreen,” Prowl said, gesturing to the blue mech next to him. “He has some teaching experience and is willing to work with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker in regards to their education.”

     Smokescreen smiled and stepped forward, holding his hand out for Ratchet to shake. “You can call me Smokey,” he offered.

     “I thought only Enforcers lived here,” Sunstreaker snidely interjected. Ratchet vowed to have a word with Sunstreaker at some point about his habit of greeting all new mechs with belligerence. Reservation was to be expected with their history, but Ratchet noticed that Sunstreaker had a practice of taking it too far.

     “That is mostly true,” Smokescreen said, turning to face Sunstreaker. “Jazz prefers to rent out to those working as or for the Enforcers. But he does make some exceptions for family,” he said, indicating the twins. “I am allowed to live here for multiple reasons. Prowl is my brother and Bluestreak is our cousin. In addition, I am a certified psychologist and perform the majority of the evaluations for the Enforcers of this region.”

     “We’re not so fragged up that we need a shrink,” Sideswipe said, crossing his arms over his chassis defensively.

     Smokescreen replied before Ratchet could chide his ward. “Of course not. That would not be my responsibility here. I quite enjoyed sparkling and youngling psychology in my studies; that carried over into a teaching degree. I would be here as a tutor, nothing more. Would that be acceptable to you both?”

     Sideswipe and Sunstreaker seemed surprised Smokescreen would ask them what they wanted.  Sideswipe looked uncertainly at Ratchet.

     The medic shrugged. “I’d like for you to get some schooling. But only with someone that you could feel comfortable with. It’s your decision.”

     Ratchet watched carefully and when Sunstreaker imperceptibly relaxed, Sideswipe nodded. “Yeah, we guess you can stay.”

     Smokescreen clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Well, no time like the present. I believe Prowl is going to steal your Caretaker away to visit the Precinct. While he does that, I can get started with finding out your knowledge base.”

     Sideswipe edged closer to Ratchet. “Now?” he asked, the uncertainty creeping back in.

     “Yes, now. I won’t be gone long, and I will be back,” Ratchet said, patting Sideswipe on the shoulder. “Smokescreen, Sideswipe is recovering from some rather severe injuries so he should be resting physically,” he instructed.

     “Of course,” Smokescreen said, nodding, already finding a spot on the floor and making himself comfortable. The Twins stood above him, looking confused and out of their depth. Ratchet grinned to himself as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe kept glancing at each other and mading little facial expressions that indicated they were arguing between themselves but not really making any decisions. 

     “Behave yourselves,” Ratchet said, as he neared the doorway.

     “Be careful,” Sunstreaker cautioned, the normally blank faceplates edged with concern. “Take care of him,” he told Prowl, much to Ratchet’s surprise.

     The corner of Prowl’s lipplates twitched a little, but he nodded solemnly. “We will not be far away,” he assured the yellow mech.

     Ratchet gave his wards one last glance and then followed Prowl out the door. As he walked, he felt the Twins’ optics on his back plates, but he refused to turn around and draw out the farewell. In a few very short days, they would have to be on their own for extended periods of time, and Ratchet felt that they needed to get used to the situation.

     They were out of the building before either mech spoke, and it was Prowl who broke the silence. “They are very attached to you,” he commented mildly.

      Ratchet made an amused sound. “You could say that. They’re paranoid that we’re going to get separated.”

     Prowl paused, and it took Ratchet a step or two before he realized. He turned back to see Prowl regarding him with his head cocked to the side.

     “They have reason for concern.”

     Ratchet waved a hand through the air and scoffed. “I’m not going anywhere. Not after everything I did to keep them.”

     Prowl frowned. “I did not consider the fact that you might not realize you were in danger,” he mused.

     “In danger?” Ratchet asked, stepping closer. “From what?”

     “TopNotch was one of the wealthiest and most influential underground fighting ring masters. And you are directly responsible for putting him in prison.”

     Ratchet blinked, feeling a cold chill climb up his back struts. “Do you think he might go after the Twins?”

     Prowl’s frown twitched, and then he smiled. “Your concern for one another is admirable. No, Ratchet. I doubt he would seek retaliation against the Twins. Their secret is out now, and they are capable of defending themselves against attackers. You, on the other hand, would be far more easily damaged.”

     Ratchet felt as if a bucket of cold oil had just been poured over his head. The Twins’ overprotectiveness now all made sense!  Then he caught sight of the building they had just left; his optics widened.

     “The apartment…” Ratchet began.

     “It had already been available, but it seemed ideal when the situation arose. We will also be patrolling the Veterinary Academy grounds and escorting you there and back,” Prowl confirmed, nodding.

     Ratchet shook his head. “That seems a bit much. Are you sure that this is all necessary?”

     Prowl motioned the vet medic forward. “TopNotch has many connections. Even though he personally cannot commit any actions, his wealth is more than enough to procure someone else to perform tasks.”

      “His wealth,” Ratchet snorted. “He’s got a good portion of mine.” Thank Primus the precinct had forwarded his first paycheck and the Youngling Protection Services had done likewise.

     Prowl nodded. “For now, his known funds have been frozen. It will likely take some time, but I believe the monies you used to purchase Sideswipe will eventually be returned to you.”

     Ratchet looked away, studying the buildings they were passing. “I’m not all that concerned. Sideswipe and his brother are worth every penny.”

     “Yes, I believe that too. Smokescreen was not entirely truthful in the apartment, by the way.”

     Ratchet glanced sidelong at the Enforcer. “You mean about analyzing them? I figured. A little help would actually be appreciated,” he admitted. “I really know nothing about younglings and even less about younglings who have experienced what they have.”

     “I doubt many do. Smokescreen will advise you as best as he can. He is quite good,” Prowl commented, a hint of pride coloring his tone

     Ratchet sighed as the Enforcer building came into view, tall and imposing at the end of the street. “I hope so. I’m particularly worried about Sunstreaker.”

     “They will be well cared for,” Prowl said, reassuring the medic. “Now, come. Optimus is expecting us and quite eager to meet you.”

\--

     “We don’t know any of this!” Sideswipe announced and tossed the data pad down, frustration clear in his tone and the set of his shoulders. 

     Sunstreaker shifted, slouching further in his seated position along the wall. He could feel his brother’s mounting pain and irritation and it was ratcheting his own annoyance exponentially. But they had made this decision to invite Smokescreen in so Sunstreaker was doing his best to keep his mouth shut. His brother, on the other hand, was not being as reserved.

     “That’s all right,” Smokescreen soothed, picking the pad up and placing it in the stack by his side. “That’s what I’m here for; to teach you these things. But first I have to evaluate what you know.”

     “We don’t know anything!” Sideswipe said, throwing his hands up. “I can tell you how to dismantle a beta class fighting drone in less than five seconds, but other than that, I’m useless!”

     Sunstreaker twitched, glaring at the back of his twin’s helm. _Quit overreacting._

     Sideswipe turned and glared back. _I’m not!_ he protested, intakes heaving.

     “You’re not useless,” Smokescreen said, his tone chiding. “You are ignorant, which is not your fault!” he said, raising a cautioning hand as Sideswipe whipped back around at the perceived insult. “It is a state that is also easily remedied.”

     Sunstreaker snorted. “And how long will that take?”

     The blue mech’s gaze landed on Sunstreaker, and he twitched again, suddenly yearning for the ring where things were so much simpler. Kill and survive, and that’s all you needed to know.

     “Likely, quite a while,” Smokescreen admitted. “While you spent years in the rings, others your age were learning about Cybertronian history and mathematics. There’s going to be a lot of catching up to do.”

     “Well then, let’s get started!” Sideswipe said, leaning forward earnestly, his mood changing like quicksilver to one of eagerness. Sunstreaker snorted to himself, feeling a bit of his ire dissipate as Sideswipe brightened.

     Smokescreen smiled, pulling a new data pad out of subspace. “All right,” he agreed. “We’ll start with math.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

     When Ratchet arrived back home, he walked up the stairs in a bit of a haze. Optimus and Prowl had given him a great number of things to think about, many of which he wanted to discuss with the Twins. Ratchet was so engrossed in the lines of code running rampant through his processor that he didn’t notice the large shape trying to dodge out of the medic’s way as Ratchet stepped onto his floor’s landing.

     Ratchet bounced off the shape and would have tumbled back down the stairs if a hand hadn’t clamped down on his shoulder and pulled. Ratchet’s wide optics looked up and recognized his neighbor as Ironhide steadied Ratchet.

     “Need to watch where you’re goin’,” Ironhide rumbled, making sure Ratchet was upright before releasing him.

     “Right,” Ratchet said, nodding rapidly. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry about that.” Ratchet’s spark beat a rapid rhythm in his chassis at the near fall. It didn’t help that up close, Ratchet found that Ironhide really _was_ a very large mech. Ratchet ignored the small, tiny part of his processor that mentioned that he had always had a thing for larger mechs and couldn’t that be adding to his rapid sparkbeat as well?

     “Not a problem.  You went into the precinct today, right? Met Optimus?” Ironhide inquired as Ratchet subtly tried to move around the Enforcer to his own door.

     “Yes. Prowl showed me around,” Ratchet said, nodding.

     “Good. We’ll keep you and the little ones safe,” Ironhide said, clamping a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder.

     Ratchet blinked his optic shutters a few times. “I would hardly call Sunstreaker and Sideswipe ‘little’,” he mused.

     Ironhide threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “Mech, to me, you’re all little. They don’t have half bad armor, but you,” he said, leaning closer and trailing a finger down Ratchet’s arm. “You barely got anything. Although it _is_ quite pretty,” Ironhide said, his optics roving over the vet’s form.

     Ratchet felt his cheekplates warm, and he batted Ironhide’s hand away. “I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much!” he replied hotly, uncertain if he should feel flattered or insulted.

     Just then, his apartment door slid aside, and Sideswipe poked his head through the opening. “Ratch? Is that you?” The welcoming smile that had been on his face dropped as he saw Ironhide looming over Ratchet.

     “What’s going on?” Sideswipe asked, straightening and stepping forward.

     Ratchet neatly stepped around the Enforcer and indicated for Sideswipe to go back inside the apartment. Sideswipe didn’t budge; instead, his optics adopted a frosty look as he stared over Ratchet’s head at Ironhide.

     “Nothing, Sides. Just exchanging pleasantries with our neighbor,” Ratchet said, purposely keeping his tone light.

     “Oh, hey, ‘Hide!” Smokescreen said, sticking his own head out the door. “How was practice?”

     Ratchet watched out of the corner of his optic as he tried ushering Sideswipe into the apartment. Ironhide shook his head, grimacing.

     “The newest batch of recruits sure need some work. But don’t worry, I’ll be whipping them into shape soon enough.”

     Smokescreen laughed. “Just don’t whip them too hard. I’d rather meet them later rather than sooner.”

     “Mmm. Which one are you?” Ironhide asked, suddenly turning his attention to Sideswipe. Ratchet felt his ward stiffen a little more.

     “Sideswipe,” he answered shortly.

     “’Sideswipe’,” Ironhide mused. “Heard you and your brother used to fight in the dog rings. Heard you were good.”

     “We were the best,” Sideswipe retorted, a hint of snarl coloring his tone.

     “Wonder if you’d be any good at fighting as a mech,” Ironhide said, giving Sideswipe a once over. The Enforcer's optics were considering.

     “You’re welcome to try us out,” Sunstreaker said, appearing behind his brother’s shoulder, and just as bristly.

     Ratchet said a prayer to Primus and started pushing at Sideswipe’s chassis. “That’s not going to happen. Do you always begin recruiting this soon after meeting someone?” Ratchet said crossly, glaring at over his shoulder at Ironhide.

     “And you!” he said to Sideswipe. “You’re supposed to be resting. Inside. Now!”

     Sideswipe’s optics flicked down to Ratchet’s faceplates, and his lipplates quirked. “Yes, Creator,” he said, simpering a little. But his optics were hard as he gave the Enforcer still looming over them all one last glance. Sunstreaker didn’t seem too happy either, but he stepped back easily enough when Ratchet turned his glare to him.

     The vet turned back just in time to see Smokescreen give Ironhide a chiding glance and Ironhide shrug non-apologetically.

     “They’re not to be fighting,” Ratchet said, giving Ironhide a hard stare. “Especially Sideswipe; he’s recovering from fractured spinal struts.”

     Ironhide shrugged again. “They’ve probably got good instincts. Can’t hurt to see what they got.”

     “They’re not of age, ’Hide,” Smokescreen said gently. “And Ratchet didn’t rescue them just so they could go and essentially do the same thing as they were doing in the ring.”

     Ratchet shot Smokescreen a grateful glance.

     “Fine, fine,” Ironhide grumbled, looking down at his feet. “Didn’t mean to upset anyone. Anyway, I gotta get going. I’m on shift in another few minutes.”

     “Be careful,” Smokescreen called as Ironhide shot Ratchet one more appraising look and began walking down the stairs.

     Ratchet glared at the mech’s back until it disappeared from view and then turned to look at Smokescreen.  “He’s an aft,” Ratchet announced. He firmly squashed that traitorous part of his processor that kept piping up about how attractive Ironhide’s broad shoulders were.

     Smokescreen smiled. “He can be a little abrasive, but he means well. He always has everyone’s best interests at spark, just remember that. Now. Can we have a word?” he asked, optics flickering back towards the apartment.

     Turning, Ratchet saw the Twins silhouetted just within the doorway, their arms crossed over their chasses. Some of the tension was draining away from their frames, but they still stood at attention.

     “Yes, sure,” Ratchet said, grabbing the door and sliding it shut despite Sideswipe’s protested ‘hey!’ “How did they do today?”

     “Walk me upstairs?” Smokescreen asked, and Ratchet nodded. They began climbing the stairs side by side, slowly.

     “They are very bright. Quite intelligent although they do their best to hide it,” Smokescreen commented.

     “Intelligence wasn’t excitedly prized in the ring,” Ratchet said, wryly.

     “I’m sure. Well, it’s very early to tell, but I believe Sideswipe shows some aptitude with mathematics. Sunstreaker is a little harder to get a read on, although he perked up when we had a brief history lesson.”

     “Have you any insight on them psychologically?” Ratchet asked, recalling the night before.

     “Oh, it’s too early to say anything with confidence. Is there anything in particular that concerns you?” Smokescreen asked, as they arrived at his door.

     Ratchet frowned. “I’m not sure. Like you said, it’s probably too early to know if anything is a lasting problem,” he hedged.

     Smokescreen entered in his code and then turned to face Ratchet as the door whooshed open. “They’re good younglings. Just keep doing as you have been. I’ll be back tomorrow, around the same time.”

     Ratchet nodded. “All right. Thank you.”

     Smiling, Smokescreen entered his apartment, the door sliding shut behind him. Ratchet stared at the blank surface for several seconds before turning and heading back down the stairs. Before the apartment door was even completely open he was confronted by the worried faceplates of his twins.

     “Did he hurt you?” Sunstreaker demanded as soon as Ratchet entered the apartment.

     “Who? Ironhide? No, of course not,” Ratchet said, dismissing their concern. “I actually almost fell, and he caught me.” He ducked his head, cheekplates warming again as he remembered the feel of Ironhide’s hands on his plating.

     “You didn’t look happy,” Sideswipe said.

     “Is my armor really all that bad?” Ratchet complained, holding an arm out and examining the plating.

     Sunstreaker and Sideswipe exchanged looks. “Yes,” they chorused.

     “I’m a veterinarian!” Ratchet protested, sitting heavily on the chair at his desk. “I’m a nobody. No one’s going to come after me!” He glanced up at the twins, suddenly unsure. “Are they?”

     Sideswipe glanced at his brother before kneeling with a wince at Ratchet’s feet. “TopNotch knows he’s not getting us back. And we can take care of ourselves so there’s no point in sending someone for us. But you embarrassed him, challenged him among his own people.” Sideswipe hesitated. “He’s already gunning for you. And you’re an easy mark.”

     “This is ridiculous,” Ratchet groused.

      “Ridiculous or not, you still have to be careful,” Sideswipe said, leaning forward until his chin was propped on Ratchet’s knee joint. Sideswipe’s earnest optics stared up at him, pleading and warning all at once.

     Ratchet sighed. He placed a hand on Sideswipe’s helm and began stroking, the twin’s optics shuttering closed with a throaty purr of his engine.

     “I’ll be careful. Anyway, the entire precinct seems to have adopted us so we’ll have some help.”

     “How was it?” Sunstreaker asked.

     “The precinct?”

     Sunstreaker nodded as he leaned against the wall.

     “I met the Chief and a few of the others on duty. Toured the kennels and spoke with one of the caretakers there. Some fine looking dogs,” Ratchet mused. “I can’t wait to get started with their physicals.”

     “But not as fine as us, right?” Sideswipe asked, nudging Ratchet’s hand with his forehelm. Ratchet smiled at the blatant request for continued attention.

     “Of course not. Did you two like Smokescreen?”

     Sideswipe shrugged. “He was ok. It’s just us for the rest of the day though, right?”

     Nodding, Ratchet nudged Sideswipe away so that the medic could stand. “Yes, just us. Have you two had your lunch?”

     Sunstreaker shook his head in a negative, his optics trained on Sideswipe as he got to his feet. “We were going to wait until you got back.” Knowing Sunstreaker’s reactions were often the best gauge of how his brother was doing, Ratchet carefully watched Sideswipe’s rising as well.

     “Red?” Ratchet inquired, seeing Sideswipe sway a little before straightening.

     He grimaced. “I think I need another dose,” Sideswipe admitted.

     “All right. Let me go get some energon and get that into you first. Maybe it will help from keeping you so loopy.”

     “He’s always loopy,” Sunstreaker commented, hovering behind Sideswipe as they made their way over to the nest they had created on the floor.

     Sideswipe didn’t comment, so Ratchet knew that Sideswipe was feeling his injuries. Ratchet quickly made it downstairs and grabbed their energon ration. When he entered the apartment again, Sideswipe was curled up in the pile of bedding, his head on Sunstreaker’s thigh. The yellow mech was leaning against the wall, sketchpad and stylus in hand.

     Ratchet handed out the cubes, and Sideswipe sat up enough to gulp his down and then drop back to the bedding. The medic pulled out his kit and measured out the dosage for the pain medication.

     “This is the lower dose that I used on you this morning,” Ratchet informed Sideswipe as he injected it into the red mech’s port.

     “Ok,” Sideswipe murmured, the tension leaving his frame as the drug took effect. “It’s not as bad as the dose you gave me yesterday. My processor was muddled for hours.”

     Sunstreaker arched an optic ridge but stayed silent, lips quirked in a smile. Ratchet could only imagine the brotherly insult that Sunstreaker held back.

     “When can I transform again?” Sideswipe asked as Ratchet subspaced his kit.

     “Not for a while yet. At least a week, maybe longer. I really wish you hadn’t transformed to attack Wheeljack. I can only imagine the stress that that placed on those welds,” Ratchet said, fretting.

     Sideswipe sighed. “I never thought I would miss being a dog.”

     “What do you miss?” Ratchet asked.

     “Four legs,” Sideswipe groaned, stretching out his injured limb. Ratchet sat down next to him and maneuvered himself so that Sideswipe’s injured thigh stretched across the medic’s lap. Sideswipe was now lying on his back, his head still pillowed on Sunstreaker’s thigh.

     "I suppose it is easier being lame on four legs rather than two,” Ratchet remarked, sliding his hands along Sideswipe’s thigh.

     “Yeah, def…ooh…” Sideswipe groaned, his optics shuttering completely closed as Ratchet slipped his fingers inside transformation seams and massaged overly taut cables.

     “Too hard?” Ratchet asked, pausing.

     “Nonono,” Sideswipe protested, his optics flying open as he stared down the length of his chassis at the medic. “Don’t stop!”

     Ratchet smiled and resumed the impromptu massage. “Sunstreaker, are you watching? You can help your brother with this every night before bed.”

     Sunstreaker dropped his sketch pad to his lap and leaned over, observing the motion of Ratchet’s fingers intently.

     Sideswipe petulantly pushed at his brother and pouted. “No. Want Ratchet to do it.”

     Sunstreaker huffed, but Ratchet caught the amused glint in the yellow twin’s optics. “This morning you were all about me touching you,” he said.

     Sideswipe cracked open one optic and tilted his head to look at his brother, upside down. “That’s different. That’s interfacing.”

     The motion of Ratchet’s hands stuttered and then stopped as he stared at the Twins with a bit of dismay. “Interfacing?”

     Sideswipe turned his head back around, and Ratchet was suddenly speared by two identical worried gazes.

     “Yeah,” Sideswipe said slowly. “Is that ok?”

     Ratchet’s immediate reaction was to say no, because they were just younglings. But many younglings interfaced before adulthood. Ratchet had some pretty fond memories of his first interface, and he had been a little younger than the Twins were now.

     “I think… that for now, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea, what with Sideswipe’s injury. And for in the future… I will have to do some research,” Ratchet said slowly. “There are precautions to take to avoid creating, but I honestly don’t know if that applies to twins who share a spark in the first place.”

    “But it’s ok for us to… with each other?” Sunstreaker asked hesitantly.

     Ratchet felt his optic ridges raise. “Of course. You’re two halves of a whole, you should…” Ratchet cocked his head to the side, seeing their badly concealed apprehension. “Someone’s said something to you.”

     Sideswipe shook his head, faint frown on his faceplates. “We should have known. TopNotch said that we were an abomination and interfacing with one another would be wrong. He only let us spark merge because it was a ‘necessary evil’,” he said, bitterly. Then he yelped as Ratchet’s hand spasmed, inadvertently tugging on a sore cable.

     “Sorry. Sorry,” Ratchet muttered, pulling his hands away. “That slag-eating aft! If he were in front of me right now, I’d… I’d…” Ratchet sputtered a bit trying to think of something suitable to express his anger.

     Sunstreaker’s optics were a little wide as he watched Ratchet’s rage. Ratchet caught side of it and managed to rein his temper in. “I’m sorry. TopNotch was wrong,” Ratchet said, catching each twin’s optics and holding them.

     “He was wrong,” Ratchet repeated emphatically. “You’re not abominations. Split-spark twins are very rare, but are generally viewed as a miracle, not an abomination.” He paused. “Your creator and TopNotch were idiots.” The vet subconsciously pulled Sideswipe closer as Ratchet stared out into space.

     “From what I know of twins, you should have been spark merging on a regular basis as your sparks matured. Otherwise the sparks could develop badly. As you reach adulthood, you will be able to spend longer and longer periods of time apart, but there’ll be a natural draw to each other.”

     “We were always strongest right after he would let us merge,” Sunstreaker murmured. “Sometimes I wouldn’t even notice the shock collar.”

     “And that’s when you usually wound up in solitary,” Sideswipe replied wryly. “Drugged and dented.”

     Sunstreaker shrugged, unapologetic. “So us interfacing together is all right?”

     Ratchet nodded. “It’s expected. I just want to you hold back because of Sideswipe’s injuries and until I can look into the reproduction aspect of things.”

     Sunstreaker suddenly grinned. “What, don’t want more sparklings around?”

     The vet swatted Sunstreaker’s shoulder. “You two are quite enough for now,” he said, taking a photocapture of Sunstreaker’s smile. Ratchet was reminded once more how handsome both the Twins were as Sunstreaker’s face lit up.

     “I want sparklings some day!” Sideswipe announced, once more getting comfortable in Sunstreaker’s and Ratchet’s laps. He looked hopefully at Ratchet’s hands, and the medic resumed the massage with a small grin.

     “Oh, do you?” Ratchet asked, almost missing the odd look that crossed Sunstreaker’s expression. Apparently this hadn’t been something Sideswipe’s twin had known about.

     “Well, yeah. Now that I know how creators are _supposed_ to act,” the red mech replied, his optics slipping closed. “As long as I act like you, I know I’ll be fine.”

     Ratchet’s hands paused once more, a strange feeling of tightness surrounding his spark at the words. Sideswipe murmured unhappily and slitted one optic to see what the problem was.

     The vet carefully removed his hands from under Sideswipe’s plating and reached down to cradle Sideswipe’s face in Ratchet’s hands.

     “I love you,” Ratchet said, making sure the words were clear. He kissed Sideswipe’s forehelm, ignoring the sudden hitching of Sideswipe’s intakes and released him to repeat the gesture with Sunstreaker.

     Sunstreaker ducked his face and hid it in Ratchet’s neck after his kiss. Sideswipe arched up, scrambling to sit between his twin and guardian. He snuggled himself under Ratchet’s outer arm and claimed the other side of the medic’s neck.

     “We love you too,” Sideswipe murmured.


	7. Chapter 7

                They eventually untangled themselves so that Ratchet could retrieve his reading materials. As soon as he settled back into their nest, Sideswipe wriggled around so that his head rested on Ratchet’s thighs and Sideswipe’s legs stretched out across Sunstreaker’s lap. Sideswipe quickly fell into recharge, helped along by Ratchet’s stroking of Sideswipe’s helm.

                Sunstreaker propped his sketch pad on Sideswipe’s good hip, and his stylus was soon flying across the pad’s surface.  Ratchet was quite eager to see what Sunstreaker came up with, but instinctively knew not to pry. Sunstreaker would come to him when he was ready.

                Ratchet quickly became engrossed in his studies, excited to be coming back to his rotations. He quite enjoyed his time with the Twins, but his natural desire to learn new things made his hands twitch for a patient beneath them.

                The three of them settled into a companionable quiet. Ratchet lost track of time and probably would have kept on reading, but Sunstreaker suddenly startled with a faint growl. Ratchet looked up to follow Sunstreaker’s gaze to the apartment door. Now that Ratchet had emerged from his haze, he could hear the faint sound of shouting out in the hall.

                “Stay here,” Sunstreaker commanded, slipping out from under Sideswipe’s legs and standing. Sideswipe stirred as Ratchet tried to gently extract himself from Sideswipe’s weight. 

                “What’s going on?” Ratchet asked as Sunstreaker opened the door and warily stuck his head out. When nothing presented itself, he transformed into his dog form and loped out onto the landing.

                “Sunstreaker! Fraggit it all, wait!” Ratchet called, nearly tripping over Sideswipe’s game stacks as he hurried after the yellow twin. Ratchet glanced over his shoulder when he reached the doorway, relieved to see Sideswipe sitting up and looking around blearily; he was awake enough to defend himself if necessary. 

                Out of the apartment, Ratchet realized that the shouting was coming from below and followed the rapidly disappearing tip of Sunstreaker’s tail balancer down the stairs. Ratchet moved so quickly, that he nearly fell over Sunstreaker who was sitting on his haunches at the bottom of the stairs. He glared over his shoulder as Ratchet reached the landing. 

                **I told you to stay put.**

“Like I’m really going to do that,” Ratchet retorted. Sunstreaker snorted.

                **You should probably rescue your friend,** he advised, and Ratchet finally realized that the mech flattened on the floor just a few feet away was Wheeljack.

                Jazz crouched on Wheeljack’s back, his arms pulled behind him in a painful looking hold. Wheeljack babbled nonsensically as Jazz shook him, asking him his purpose in the building. Another mech, gray and white and with the same build as Prowl, stood a few feet away with a pulse rifle aimed quite steadily at Wheeljack’s head.

                “Whoa, whoa!” Ratchet exclaimed, stepping forward. He stilled as the rifle snapped up to point directly at his spark. From behind him, Sunstreaker snarled and bolted to his feet, his claws screeching across the floor.

                “Ratchet? Ratchet, is that you?” Wheeljack asked. His voice was muffled as his faceplates were pressed into the flooring.

                “Do you know this mech, Ratch?” Jazz asked, never taking his eyes off the mech beneath him.

                “Yes!” Ratchet said, fidgeting in place. “He’s my best friend. We used to be roommates until a few days ago, so could you please let him up? And maybe get your friend’s rifle out of my faceplates?” Ratchet said, a little unnerved at the unwavering tip of the weapon. 

                Jazz looked up finally, and his optics widened. “Blue, stand down!” he ordered.

                With a jolt, the rifle bearer blinked and then dropped his weapon to his side, looking at Jazz with confusion. As soon as the rifle lowered, Sunstreaker flew across the landing and leapt up onto the gray mech.

                The mech went down with a shout, Jazz and Ratchet both springing forward.

                “Sunny, no!” Ratchet yelled. Sunstreaker snarled over his shoulder at Ratchet and continued growling in Blue’s faceplates. The growling was interspersed with barks and yips, and Ratchet relaxed fractionally as he realized that although Sunstreaker had the mech pinned, his claws and teeth were nowhere near vital areas.

                “What in the Pit?” Jazz said, visor blazing nearly white. The point of his sidearm wavered in the air. “Get him off!”  Ratchet halted Jazz’s rush with an outstretched arm.

                “He’s yelling at him,” Ratchet said with a breathless laugh. He tugged on Sunstreaker’s tail balancer, eyeing Jazz and his gun all the while. “Sunny, come on, that’s enough.”

                Sunstreaker snarled once more and then jumped off, the motion leading into a transformation back to his root form. The growling transformed as well, into snarled words as Sunstreaker glared down at the mech still flat on his back.

                “… pit slagged, trigger happy hatchling with an ugly, hack job finish…” Sunstreaker rambled even as Ratchet pulled him away a few steps.

                “Ugly?  Is my finish ugly?” Blue asked Jazz as he leaned over and helped Blue to his feet. “Smokey said that these colors made my optics pop. Do you really think my finish is ugly?”

                “… fat, little, fragging…”

                “Hush, Blue, your paint is just fine,” Jazz soothed, handing Blue his rifle.

                “… and if you ever point that thing at Ratchet again, I’ll rip your faceplates off!” Sunstreaker yelled, optics bright with rage. Blue quivered as the last was delivered with a jabbing finger inches away from his nasal ridge. Suddenly, the focused steadiness from moments earlier was gone, leaving a shaky mech that looked barely into adulthood.

                Jazz shot Sunstreaker a dark look as he placed a comforting hand on Blue’s shoulder. Ratchet whipped around to face his ward. “Are you done now?” he asked in a low, warning tone.

                Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chest plates and huffed, a little abashed at Ratchet’s glare. “Yes.”

                “Oh! You’re Ratchet!” Blue said, blinking rapidly. Some of the tremors dissipated as he stared frankly at the vet medic. “Prowl’s said so much about you and your younglings! Are you one of the younglings?” he asked, looking up at Sunstreaker. “Wow! I thought you’d be a lot smaller, but you’re almost as big as Ironhide, huh? There’s not many mechs as big as Ironhide, there’s Optimus of course, but…”

                “Blue…” Jazz said, shaking the mech’s shoulder slightly.

                Ratchet frowned, taking in the still rambling Blue. Then he turned and glared at Sunstreaker.

                “Hey, no, I didn’t hit him that hard!” Sunstreaker protested.

                “Bluestreak’s normally a little chatty,” Jazz explained, waving a hand. “There’s not a scratch on ‘im,” the Enforcer said approvingly, brushing off dirt from Bluestreak’s backplates.

                “That was a pretty good takedown, kid,” Jazz said to Sunstreaker.

                “Can I get up now?” a querulous voice asked from the floor, and they all turned to see Wheeljack peering up at them from between arms tucked quite securely over his head.

                “Yeah, sure!” Bluestreak exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that you were Ratchet’s friend. I guess you didn’t know which floor he was on, huh? Here, let me help,” Blue said, leaning over and practically yanking Wheeljack up. 

                “All right!” Jazz announced, taking a step back. “I think some introductions are in order, yeah? I’m Jazz and my sharpshooter friend over there is Bluestreak. That’s Ratchet and Sunstreaker,” he said, pointing, “and you are…?”

                “Wheeljack,” the mech said, his helm fins flashing rapidly in a rainbow of colors. “I just came to visit,” he said, looking helplessly at Ratchet.

                “’Wheeljack’,” Jazz murmured, his visor dimming momentarily. “You’ve worked with Prowl before! Now I remember the name! Hey, mech, I really am sorry for jumping on you like that. Ratch and the twins are under watch by everyone in the building, and we’ve already had a few threats, so we’re all a little jumpy.”

                “There’s been threats?” Ratchet asked, Sunstreaker twitching beside him.

                Jazz winced, a hand rubbing the back of his helm. “Oh. Yeah. Well, you know. One or two. Or three. I thought Prowl would have told you,” he said, apologetically.

                “He hasn’t. At least not yet,” Ratchet said, sighing. Suddenly his talk with Prowl and Optimus earlier that day was becoming much more real.

                “I’m sure he will. So, hey, is there anyone else that we need to know about?” Jazz asked.

                Ratchet shook his head. “No, I can’t think of anyone. If there is, I’ll be sure to let you know, so there won’t be another repeat of… this,” Ratchet said, waving a hand to encompass the landing.

                “Woah,” Sideswipe drawled, gaining everyone’s attention as he limped down the stairs. “There’s a party, and no one invited me?”

                “No party,” Bluestreak spoke up. “Jazz and I accidently attacked Wheeljack,” he said, almost proudly. “Hey, are you the other youngling? Wow, you guys don’t really look all that much like twins. I would have thought twins would have looked more alike. I mean you two are similar but not that similar and…”

                Sideswipe paused at the rapid fire words and then cut a glare to his brother. “What did you do?”

                Sunstreaker threw his hands up in the air and stalked across the landing, grabbing Sideswipe’s arm and ushering him back up the stairs. “Nothing. Move.”

                “But I just got down here!” Ratchet heard Sideswipe protest as the Twins made their way back up to the apartment.

                “I really am sorry,” Bluestreak said, placing a hand on Wheeljack’s arm as he hesitantly moved towards Ratchet. Large, earnest optics stared into Wheeljack’s faceplates, and the sensory panels on Blue’s back quivered. Ratchet decided that the mech was entirely too adorable to be holding a pulse rifle in his other hand.

                Wheeljack must have felt the same way because the strobing of his helm fins slowed and pulsed a light purple. “No, no, I understand. You were doing your job,” he soothed, patting the hand that was latched onto his arm. “And you did it so well,” he added, casting a wry glance at Jazz.

                “You’re sure you’re ok?” Jazz asked. “We should let you get going.”

                “Yes, I’m fine. Questioning my friendship with him,” Wheeljack said, pointing at Ratchet, “but otherwise fine.”

                Ratchet grinned, happy to see ‘Jack’s familiar face once again. “You love excitement,” he said, gesturing for Wheeljack to precede him up the stairwell.

                “I’m not so sure about that anymore,” Wheeljack commented. “Lately, every time I come near you I end up tossed on the floor.”

                “It was nice to meet you!” Bluestreaker hollered from behind them as Ratchet and Wheeljack began climbing to the next floor.

                Wheeljack turned and waved over his shoulder. “I’m not sure I can say the same,” he replied honestly. “But maybe next time will be better, huh?” he rushed to add when Bluestreak’s faceplates dropped.

                “It will!” Bluestreak exclaimed, expression lightening.  Jazz caught his shoulder and began leading the gray mech downstairs.

                He waited until they were in front of the apartment door; then Wheeljack turned and gave Ratchet a wry look.

                “That was surreal,” Wheeljack said.

                Ratchet shook his head. “Now you know what I’ve been going through.”

\--

                When they got back to their apartment, Sideswipe immediately went over to the nest and sat back down with a pleased sigh.

                _You’re getting lazy_ , Sunstreaker commented. Sideswipe stared at his brother through narrowed optics, watching his twin pace back and forth across the common room. Sideswipe could feel the desire to _move_ singing across their bond. Fortunately, Sideswipe had long ago learned how to block out Sunstreaker when he was like this.

                _Yes, I am!_ he said, leaning back against a pillow. _What happened to get you this riled up?_

Sunstreaker paused, his hands flexing. _That gray one, Bluestreak. He had a rifle on Ratchet._

Sideswipe bolted upright in shock, dimly happy to note that he only felt a dull ache at the rapid motion. _A rifle? What did you do?_

 _Jumped on him,_ Sunstreaker said, shrugging. _Yelled at him. Forgot I was in dog form and mostly ended up barking at him,_ he added, looking a little sheepish.

                Sideswipe grinned, remembering how often Sunstreaker would curse out their captors and other opponents; he would remain safe, however, because it all came out as nonsensical growling.

                _So the mech just babbles like that normally? Cuz I was getting worried there that you messed up his processor._

 _Jazz said he’s ‘chatty’_ , Sunstreaker said, resuming pacing.

                Sideswipe made a face. _He must be fun to hang around with,_ he said sarcastically _. Remind me to avoid him._ Sideswipe had a natural inclination to talk, one which had gotten him on the receiving end of Sunstreaker’s short temper quiet often. But still, even Sideswipe knew when to shut up.

                _Wish you were better,_ Sunstreaker replied.

                _I do too,_ Sideswipe said and meant it with his entire spark. Sunstreaker was much more stable now than he had been at the arena, but Sideswipe still worried when Sunstreaker got like this; he was easily provoked. Ordinarily, they would spar until Sunstreaker burned off the extra energy.  But for now Sideswipe couldn’t do much except send calming pulses over the bond.

                _Wonder if that Ironhide mech is still around,_ Sunstreaker mused.

                Sideswipe cocked his head to the side, probing to see how intent his brother was on that line of thought. Unfortunately, Sunstreaker was pretty serious.

                _Don’t. He’s big and likely experienced if he’s training recruits. I don’t want you getting hurt; you won’t have me to back you up,_ Sideswipe cautioned.

                Sunstreaker glared at his brother. _I don’t need you! And I wouldn’t get hurt; I’m not some newly hatched sparkling!_

Sideswipe looked away, a little hurt. But he reined in the anger that accompanied that hurt as the apartment door slid aside revealing Ratchet and Wheeljack.

                _Fine. But it’s not me you have to deal with_ , Sideswipe shot back. _Imagine how disappointed Ratchet would be._

                Sunstreaker whipped around and stared at Sideswipe, a stricken expression drawing his faceplates tight.

                “What’s going on?” Ratchet asked, coming to a standstill just inside the door. He looked from one twin to another, obviously sensing the tension in the room.

                “Nothing,” Sideswipe replied lightly, looking at Ratchet and smiling a disarming grin. “Did that little bit of a building manager really beat you up, ‘Jack?” he asked, peering around Ratchet to wave at the science student. “You’re like, twice his size.”

                Sunstreaker snorted and walked over to Ratchet’s desk, pulling out the chair and sitting on it with a grunt. He stared pensively out the window, ignoring the rest of the room.

                “I’m not that much bigger, and he was quite quick,” Wheeljack admitted, finally brave enough to emerge from behind Ratchet.

                **What’s wrong?** Ratchet sent Sideswipe with a concerned look.

                **He’s cranky because he didn’t get to finish a fight. Or really start one, from what it sounds like. Don’t worry about him. Just leave him alone, and he’ll join us when he feels like it,** Sideswipe explained quickly.

                “So how are you two settling in?” Wheeljack asked, searching for a place to sit. Sideswipe gestured for him to take a pillow and get comfortable. The scientist positioned himself perpendicular to Sideswipe while Ratchet sat on Sunstreaker’s chair at his desk.

                “We’re good. A shrink came by to test us on the things we don’t know. Which is pretty much everything so I think we’ll be seeing him for a while,” Sideswipe said, wincing internally when he realized that it was probably true.

                “A shrink?” Wheeljack asked, lifting an optic ridge in Ratchet’s direction.

                Ratchet nodded. “Smokescreen does the evaluations for several precincts in the area. He also has a teaching degree so he’ll be tutoring the twins.”

                “Interesting. So have you met everyone in the building yet?”

                Sideswipe let Ratchet and Wheeljack’s voices float over him, not really paying attention. He still felt groggy from his medication induced recharge, and was devoting a lot of effort in soothing his brother’s irritation.

                Wheeljack was nice enough, Sideswipe thought to himself. But he hoped Wheeljack would leave soon so Ratchet could devote his attention back to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rating goes up in this one, folks. Some sexxins off screen in the main chapter. Then NC17 for the epilogue.

               Despite his happiness at his friend visiting, Ratchet couldn’t stop the niggling worm of worry as it traveled his processor. Three threats? There had been _three_ threats, and he hadn’t even realized! Nearly everyone else had said that TopNotch would be coming after Ratchet, but the vet couldn’t shake the fear that the Twins were going to involved, especially with the way they threw themselves in front of Ratchet at the littlest perceived slight.

                Gradually, some of Ratchet’s worry slipped away the longer Wheeljack lingered. They had always had an easy banter between them, and Wheeljack had always been able to lighten Ratchet’s mood when he was feeling down. Tonight was no exception.

                The two were so involved in their conversation that it was dark out when Ratchet looked up at the sound of the door chime. Sideswipe jerked out of recharge, his optics blinking rapidly at Wheeljack.

                “Are you still here?” Sideswipe asked Wheeljack, his tone a little cranky. Ratchet chalked it up to coming out of recharge so quickly.

                “Still am!” Wheeljack replied cheerfully as Ratchet made his way to the door. “Wow, you sure are popular tonight, huh, Ratch?”

                “Apparently,” Ratchet murmured, reaching for the door handle. Sunstreaker was suddenly there, pushing him aside. Ratchet gaped up at the yellow mech.

                “Look first,” Sunstreaker chided, utilizing the scanner that pinged back who was on the other side of the door.

                “It’s Prowl and the babbling thing,” Sunstreaker said, reading the results.

                Ratchet elbowed Sunstreaker in the side and glared at him. “Be nice!” he hissed.

                Sunstreaker shrugged, already turned and making his way over to his brother. “Can’t be nice to mechs who have a bead on you.”

                “He didn’t know who I was,” Ratchet muttered, palming the door aside.

                “Hello, Prowl,” he said nodding at the Enforcer standing stiffly in the doorway. “Bluestreak.”

                “Hi!” Bluestreak replied, waving at Wheeljack and the twins when Bluestreak spotted them.

                “Good evening, Ratchet. May we have a moment of your time?” Prowl inquired.

                “Sure, come on in,” Ratchet said, stepping back and allowing both mechs to enter before shutting the door behind them. In all honesty, he was beginning to feel last night’s lack of recharge and hoped that the visit would be quick. The twins seemed to have the same mindset as they were exuding unfriendly vibes from their nest. 

                “What can I help you with?” Ratchet asked.

                Prowl shook his head. “I’ve come to apologize on behalf of those who attacked your friend earlier.” At his words, Bluestreak dropped his head and shuffled his feet, looking sheepishly at Wheeljack.

                Wheeljack shot to his feet, waving his hands through the air. “No, no! That’s quite all right. I understand completely.”

                Lipplates pursed, Prowl shook his head again. “They used unnecessary force. Wheeljack could have been injured.”

                “ _Ratchet_ could have been injured,” Sunstreaker growled.

                “But Ratchet wasn’t,” Ratchet said, giving Sunstreaker a look. “In fact, Jazz and Bluestreak were not the only ones who used unnecessary force today, so let’s just admit fault on all parties and move on.”

                The Enforcer cocked his head to the side and considered Ratchet. “You are correct, perhaps. I believe the best course of action would be to introduce all of you to the rest of the building as soon as possible so that we can all become familiar with one another.”

                “Ooh, like a party?” Sideswipe suggested, showing a bit of excitement.

                Prowl’s faceplates remained blank, but he still managed to exhibit an air of distaste. “I’m not sure…”

                Bluestreak latched onto Prowl’s arm and bounced on his feet. “A party! That would be so much fun!”

                “It would be the easiest way,” Ratchet commented, looking on at Bluestreak and Prowl with some amusement. Bluestreak had to be an adult to be an Enforcer, but Ratchet was guessing that the gray mech wasn’t long into adulthood, judging by his youngling-like excitement.

                Prowl’s optics flicked around, and he finally nodded. “Very well. A gathering mid day tomorrow would be best. That is the only time I am aware of that the entire building should be present.”

                “Right at lunchtime! Smokey and I can make energon goodies tonight!” Bluestreak suggested.

                “Yes, Blue, I believe that will be acceptable,” Prowl said, patting the hand gripping his arm. “Do you have any objections?”

                Ratchet shook his head. “Sounds great. We’ll be there, right after Smokescreen’s session with the twins.”

                Sideswipe groaned, his helm falling back to hit the wall behind him. “Pit. I was hoping we could get out of that.”

                Ratchet turned a disapproving look upon the red twin. “You’ve only had one session. Don’t think you’re getting out of learning so easily.”

                Sideswipe pouted a little but subsided, nodding.

                “Well, since that’s been established, we’ll take our leave,” Prowl announced, gesturing Bluestreak to the door. “I hope you all have a good evening.”

                Ratchet walked Prowl and Bluestreak out in the hall and then shook hands with Prowl, bidding them goodnight. As he turned, he nearly ran into Wheeljack who was standing in the doorway.

                “Think that’s my cue,” Wheeljack admitted.

                Ratchet nodded, feeling both disappointed and relieved at Wheeljack’s departure. He had missed his friend these past few days, but he was tired and wanted to spend more time alone with the twins.

                “When are you coming back to the Academy?” Wheeljack asked.

                “One more day,” Ratchet said, sighing.

                “You don’t sound all that excited,” Wheeljack commented.

                Ratchet shot a glance over to where the Twins were quietly conversing. “I am,” he reassured his friend. “I do miss being on rotation, but I wish I could spend more time with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.”

                Wheeljack nodded. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to work out a schedule.”

                Ratchet nodded, hoping Wheeljack was right. “Yes, I’m sure I will. Thanks for stopping by. I’ll probably catch up with you on school grounds.”

                “You got it!” Wheeljack exclaimed, clapping Ratchet on the shoulder. “Hey, next time, can I stay on my feet?”

                Ratchet laughed, patting Ratchet’s shoulder as he walked by. “You bet. See ya ‘Jack.”

                “’Night, kids!” Wheeljack said, leaning around Ratchet and waving at the twins before heading out into the hallway.

                Ratchet watched until Wheeljack’s helm disappeared from view, and then the medic shut the door. He turned and stilled, rising an optic ridge at the expectant stares from Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

                “What?” Ratchet asked.

                “Is anyone else coming over?” Sunstreaker asked.

                “No, I don’t believe so.”

                “Good!” Sideswipe said, making his way to his feet and then darting over to pull on Ratchet’s arm. “Come on, it’s almost bed time. I need another massage, and we can watch a movie while you do that.”

                Ratchet trudged after Sideswipe, fighting his smile. “Oh, I can, can I?”

                Sideswipe maneuvered Ratchet and then pushed at him until he sat squarely in the middle of the pile of bedding. Sunstreaker scooted over a few inches, grumbling wordlessly but then leaned back in, his shoulder just brushing Ratchet’s.

                The red mech quickly set up the movie and then settled back in on Ratchet’s other side, slinging his bad leg over Ratchet’s. He made encouraging sounds until Ratchet gave in and slipped his fingers until the crimson plating. As the movie started, Sideswipe sank against Ratchet, a soft sigh emerging from his lipplates.

                “I’m glad we got you to our selves now,” Sideswipe murmured.

                “For now,” Ratchet replied, stroking Sideswipe’s cables.

\--

                The trio stayed up for a little while longer, until Ratchet nearly fell into recharge against Sunstreaker’s shoulder. At that point, he jerked himself awake and began ushering the twins into their room. He hovered uncertainly in the doorway as they got settled, uncertain if he should stay or not. Seeing Sunstreaker and Sideswipe curl together and almost immediately fall into recharge comforted the medic. If they needed him, they could call for him. Ratchet enjoyed being close with the twins, but he also didn’t want to set up a precedent for clinginess.

                Ratchet shut their door and wandered into his own room, surveying the little possessions he had strewn about. Now that he was moving around, he was a little more awake and figured a few extra minutes of studying couldn’t hurt. He grabbed a data pad and sat on the couch, keeping an audio trained on the room next door.

\--

                Jerking awake, Ratchet grabbed at the data pad just as it slid off his lap. Looking around blearily, he looked for what had woken him, but could find nothing amiss. As he was about to squirm his way into a more comfortable position, he heard a thump and a cry from the Twins’ room.

                Spark racing in fear, Ratchet leapt to his feet and out into the hallway. A quick glance into the common room showed nothing out of pace, and he continued on to the Twins’ door.

                Just as he laid hands on the door, ready to shove it open and confront whoever had snuck in and was hurting his wards, he heard Sideswipe’s voice sound from within.

                “Ahh… Sunny,” he murmured.

                Ratchet stilled. Sideswipe hadn’t sounded as if he was in pain… Ratchet’s audio sensors sharpened.

                “Please… please, don’t stop!” Sideswipe whined, his voice rising needily amidst the faint ring of armor sliding against armor.

                Ratchet’s hand jerked back, his optics wide with realization. Thank Primus he hadn’t rushed right in!

                “You sure I’m not hurting you?” Sunstreaker asked, concern evident in his tone.

                “You’re fine! Promise! Just keep going!”

                “Shut it! You’re going to wake Ratchet,” Sunstreaker scolded. Complete silence fell in the room as the twins stopped and listened. 

                Ratchet froze in mid step, optics darting around frantically.

                “He’s recharging. Come on,” Sideswipe urged after a moment. “Please, Sunny, please, come on,” he babbled, voice rising and falling, vocalizer fritzing on every other word. “Ohh… oh frag, yes, Sunny!”

                Ratchet used the cover of the moans to make it back to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. He fell onto the couch, optics trained on the wall separating the two berth rooms. After another thump, he offlined his audios and laid down, throwing an arm across his optics.

                Spark-split youngling twins. They had never had a chance to explore one another and now that they had started, Ratchet could guess they would be going at it quite often. And he got to be the lucky mech that lived right next door to them.

                He sighed, ignoring the ache in his groin with long practice. Wheeljack had recently mentioned something about a very nice little femme in the next lab over… but no. When would he ever have the time?

                Ratchet flipped over, burying his faceplates against the back of the couch. At least the twins were happy. That was all that mattered.      

 

**Epilogue (aka Exactly what the Twins were getting up to next door):**

                Sunstreaker stirred from recharge, overly warm and restless. He shifted, immediately noticing the lack of Sideswipe’s frame next to him and also just where the warmth was originating from.

                His optics onlined, and he raised his head to stare down the length of his chassis. Sideswipe looked up from between Sunstreaker’s thighs, Sideswipe’s glossa darting out to moisten his lipplates. Even in the dim glow of their optics, Sunstreaker could see streaks of oral lubricant smeared across Sideswipe’s chin and streaked over Sunstreaker’s lower belly and thighs.

                “What are you doing?” Sunstreaker demanding, the words ending on a gasp as Sideswipe palmed Sunstreaker’s interface panel. Sunstreaker stared down at his brother in shocked lust.

                “Nothing,” Sideswipe replied, smug smile decorating his faceplates. “Just… exploring…” he said, leaning over and licking a long, wet stripe with his glossa up the center of Sunstreaker’s panel. Despite Sunstreaker’s efforts against the action, the panel snicked open, the tang of valve lubricant suddenly scenting the air.

                “Oooh, so pretty, Sunny,” Sideswipe breathed, running a light digit over the heated array.

                Sunstreaker reached down and shoved Sideswipe’s hand away. “We’re not supposed to! Ratchet said… You’re supposed to be resting!”

                “I’ve rested enough. And I don’t know a lot, but I know that this doesn’t make new sparks,” Sideswipe replied, dipping his head and extending his glossa to run it over the length of Sunstreaker’s rapidly pressurizing spike. Sunstreaker’s elbow gave out and he moaned, hand flying up to cover his mouth.

                Sideswipe raised his head. “Unless you don’t want me to touch you…” he said, pouting with a coy look.

                Sunstreaker grabbed at his brother’s helm, catching an audio horn and stroking it. “Get your mouth back down there,” he told Sideswipe, watching his brother’s optics turn blissful at the touch on his horn. “Just don’t hurt yourself.”

                “Give me some credit,” Sideswipe muttered, wrapping a hand around Sunstreaker’s spike and pumping it slowly.

                Sunstreaker’s head fell back, and he stared blindly at the ceiling, awash in the sensations originating from his groin. Sideswipe’s touch was at times hesitant, but their bond allowed him to almost immediately know what made Sunstreaker writhe the most.

                In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Sideswipe was eagerly licking transfluid from his fingers, Sunstreaker a strutless heap beneath Sideswipe’s heavy weight.

                “Mmm, I liked that,” Sideswipe murmured, hands stroking Sunstreaker’s shivering thighs.

                He did, Sunstreaker knew. Sideswipe had always had an eagerness to please whether it be the crowd or his brother. And for Sunstreaker, the joy singing from Sideswipe’s part of the bond was just as arousing as the physical sensations.

                “Get up here,” Sunstreaker said softly, tugging on Sideswipe’s shoulders. Sideswipe complied, slithering up Sunstreaker’s body until Sideswipe lay half on his brother’s chassis, engine purring happily. Sunstreaker pulled on the back of his brother’s helm and their lipplates met, glossas tangling. Sunstreaker tasted himself on Sideswipe’s glossa, and he sucked at the appendage for more, making Sideswipe moan. His brother’s hips twisted, rubbing his array against Sunstreaker’s upper thigh in a desperate shimmy.

                Sunstreaker grabbed Sideswipe’s aft and ground his thigh against Sideswipe’s interface panel. Sideswipe cried out, his head tossing back fitfully. He then fell to the side, elbow knocking into the wall in his hurry to tug Sunstreaker atop him.

                “Careful,” Sunstreaker warned even as his pushed himself up and knelt between Sideswipe’s thighs. He ghosted a hand over the burning heat that was Sideswipe’s open, dripping valve, and Sideswipe squirmed.

                “Ah… Sunny,” he murmured, hands weakly grasping at whatever part of Sunstreaker he could reach. Sunstreaker leaned down and blew a gust of warm air over Sideswipe’s quivering spike, grinning a little at the mewl his brother made.

                “Tease!” Sideswipe growled.

                In answer, Sunstreaker plunged two digits into Sideswipe’s valve, the virgin walls clamping tight  around the invaders. Sideswipe let out a strangled groan as Sunstreaker gently scissored his fingers, working some of the tension loose. He flicked his glossa at the straining tip of Sideswipe’s spike, and Sideswipe arched, his leg sliding off the edge of the berth as he thrashed. Sunstreaker paused, sliding a hand under Sideswipe’s aft and cupping his hip as best he could to support off the bad joint.

                “Please… please don’t stop!” Sideswipe begged, trying to pull Sunstreaker close with his other foot.

                “You’re sure I’m not hurting you?” Sunstreaker asked, his optics searching his brother’s face for signs of pain.

                Sideswipe furiously shook his head. “You’re fine! Promise! Just keep going!”

                “Shut it! You’re going to wake Ratchet,” Sunstreaker scolded. Both twins froze, their heads turning in unison to stare at the wall that bordered their guardian’s room.

                “He’s recharging. Come on,” Sideswipe urged after a moment. His hand darted down between his legs and he grasped his spike and began stroking it.

                “Please, Sunny, please, come on,” he babbled, shifting restlessly.  Sunstreaker batted Sideswipe’s hand aside, internally smiling at his impatient, writhing twin. He took over stroking the spike in firm, lingering spirals, his glossa dipping into Sideswipe’s valve alongside Sunstreaker’s fingers.

                Sunstreaker focused on the echo of sensations along their bond, the taste of his twin on the back of his glossa, and did his best to make Sideswipe fall apart. Judging by the moans and cries echoing in his audios, Sunstreaker was doing a pretty good job of just that.

                Sideswipe overloaded shortly after, biting the back of his own wrist to keep from screaming. Sunstreaker used the edge of the berth bedding to wipe Sideswipe clean and to catch a few smears of lubricant on his own plating that Sideswipe had missed. Then he flopped to his twin’s side and gathered Sideswipe’s still shuddering form against him.

                Sunstreaker slid a hand down Sideswipe’s chassis, fingering the near invisible seam there. “Open?” he asked, vocalizer nearly muted with exhaustion.

                His brother was tired too, but he did as Sunstreaker asked, the room lighting up with the glow of their sparks as the two halves reached for each other. The last Sunstreaker remembered was the sensation of falling without fear.        

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet gives the twins a brief "talk". Everyone in the building gets together for a meet and greet. Ratchet and Sunstreaker learn some Bluestreak backstory by Overprotective!Prowl

                **Ratchet.**

                “’m busy,” Ratchet replied, burrowing deeper into the softness beneath him.

                **Ratchet. Ratchetratchetratchetratch…**

“I’m up already!” Ratchet snarled, sitting up and taking a swing at the obnoxious pest that was doing its best to annoy him. Or, he tried to at least. Instead, he struggled against the weight on his chest and banged his hand against the wall.

                Optics onlining, he was greeted to Sunstreaker’s curious gaze a scant inch away. 

                “Ack! What are you doing!?” Ratchet squawked.  Sunstreaker’s tail balancer swung in a slow, nonchalant arc as he readjusted his paws on top of Ratchet’s chassis. The large yellow head darted forward, and Ratchet ineffectually batted at Sunstreaker as he did his best to lick Ratchet awake.

                “Seriously, I’m up! Stop it,” Ratchet growled, unable to hold back the laughter.

                “Are you sure? Cuz we were getting worried when you wouldn’t respond,” Sideswipe said. Ratchet craned his neck around to see Sideswipe leaning up against the doorframe. He had a smile on his face, but the look in his optics was one of concern.

                Sunstreaker twisted and leapt to the side, allowing Ratchet to sit up. He rubbed a hand over his faceplates and shook his head.

                “No, I’m all right. Just had my audios offlined.”

                “You audios…? Why?”

                Ratchet looked up at Sideswipe with a wry expression. “Why do you think?”

                Sideswipe blinked and then yelped as Sunstreaker darted forward, nipping at Sideswipe’s ankle. “I thought he was recharging!” he protested as Sunstreaker growled at him.

                “Sunstreaker, don’t injure your brother,” Ratchet said, taking at swipe at Sunstreaker’s tail. Sunstreaker whirled and dropped to the floor, audio flaps and tail balancer drooping.

                “Oh, stop it, I’m not mad,” Ratchet scolded, standing and stretching out the kinks in the tension cables of his back.

                “You’re not?” Sideswipe asked, expression almost as piteous as his brother’s.

                “Annoyed a little. I told you to wait.”

                “I’m sorry. Sunny was… ow!! Fraggit, Sunny, alright. Fine, _I_ got curious,” Sideswipe admitted after another nip to his ankle.

                “It’s all right, I understand. Do I have to worry about sparklings?” Ratchet asked, sorting through his stack of datapads.

                Sideswipe shuffled, turning away a little. Ratchet realized that the mechling was actually embarrassed and grinned internally. “No. I don’t think so. Uh…”

                “Tab A in slot B,” Ratchet explained when he could tell Sideswipe wanted to ask, but couldn’t bring himself to. “Spike in valve,” he elaborated at Sideswipe’s confused look.

                “Oh. Oh! No, then, no sparklings. See, told you,” he said in aside to Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker was now sitting on his haunches, balancer wrapped around his front feet. He did not appear to share his brother’s smugness.

                “Mmm. Well, I’ll look into the sparkling aspect of things today. Until I give you an answer, no tabs in slots, got it?” Ratchet asked, looking at both of them sternly.

                Sunstreaker’s shoulders drooped in assent while Sideswipe nodded, unable to hide the grin twitching at the corner of his lipplates.

                Ratchet motioned for them to follow him out into the common room. He paused in the doorway, Sideswipe almost tripping over Sunstreaker in an attempt not to run into Ratchet.

                “And, Sides?”

                Sideswipe blinked at him, suddenly looking wary. “Yeah?”

                “Try and keep it down at night, all right? You’re really quite loud,” Ratchet informed the red mech. He turned on his heel and marched out into the common room, stifling his own smile at the look of mortification that bloomed across Sideswipe’s face at with Ratchet’s announcement.

\--

                 Sunstreaker vented a long sigh and leaned against the wall next to Ratchet. “How much longer do we have to stay?”

                 Smile quirking his lipplates, Ratchet glanced at Sunstreaker sidelong. “What - aren’t enjoying your adoring fans?”

                 Sunstreaker gave his guardian an ugly look.

                 Ratchet slid an unobtrusive hand behind Sunstreaker and lightly stroked the mech’s lower back plating. He ever so slightly relaxed into the touch, optic shutters lowering in pleasure. It didn’t last long, however. The tension returned tenfold when Bluestreak bounced over from another group, platter of energon goodies in hand.

                 “Did you want any more?” the eager mechling asked, holding out the plate.

                 Ratchet grabbed two before Sunstreaker could say anything. “Thank you, Bluestreak. These are really good,” he said, handing one of the goodies to the yellow mech. Sunstreaker took it reluctantly, having already had several.

                 Bluestreak beamed. “Thanks! I’m glad you like them. Are you having fun? Everyone’s so happy to meet you all!”

                 Ratchet glanced over Bluestreak’s shoulder, optics taking in the small group of mechs, including the ones surrounding Sideswipe.

                 “We’re glad to meet everyone as well,” Ratchet said, as diplomatically as he could.

                 “Great! Well, Smokey told me to keep circulating, so I’m going to do that!” Bluestreak bounced away, smile still in place.

                 “There’s something wrong with that mech,” Sunstreaker muttered.

                 “You just don’t like him because he held a rifle on me,” Ratchet replied, nibbling on the goodie. He hadn’t been lying earlier; they were really were good. He also didn’t have the spark to say no to the mech every time he came around.

                 “That’s part of it. Then there’s the sparkling behavior. No one should be that happy.”

                 “Bluestreak has a troubled past,” a voice at Ratchet’s elbow said. The vet jumped, twisting to see Prowl standing placidly at Ratchet’s side.

                 Ratchet placed a hand on his chassis over his spark. “Prowl! You startled me. You move so quietly.”

                 “Living up to your designation, Prowler?” Jazz piped up as he came up behind Prowl. The building manager threw an arm around Prowl’s shoulder and leaned into the other mech’s space, the Enforcer tolerating it with a resigned expression.

                 “Just ‘Prowl’, Jazz, please. I apologize, Ratchet.”

                 Ratchet waved a hand, dismissing the apology. “No harm done. What were you saying about Bluestreak?”

                 Jazz straightened a little, the grin fading from his faceplates. “Telling ‘em about Blue?” he questioned Prowl and glancing at Sunstreaker.

                 “Yes. Bluestreak is nearly the Twins’ age, so I expect that they will be interacting pretty frequently,” Prowl said, also looking at Sunstreaker.

                 The yellow mech shrugged. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked bluntly. Ratchet sighed and wiped a hand across his forehelm, shooting Prowl an apologetic look.

                 “He is a recent orphan. His creators offlined a few years ago during an industrial accident in which several workers lost their lives. Bluestreak had just entered an apprenticeship alongside his Carrier and was present when the accident occurred. He barely survived and was trapped for several days.” Prowl paused as Jazz squeezed his shoulder.

                 “Smokescreen and I are the only family he has left. He is a good mech, very kind-hearted and responsible, but he has suffered some setbacks because of his experiences.” Prowl’s expression hardened as he stared at Sunstreaker.

                 “I do not expect you to become friends with Bluestreak. If that happens, I am happy for you both. But I will not tolerate any hurt done to him, either physical or emotional.” Prowl’s normally bland tone turned steely.

                 Sunstreaker straightened from his slouch, optics narrowing as Prowl locked gazes with him. Ratchet glanced between the two of them, suddenly tense. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Sideswipe glance their way, likely feeling his twin’s upset.

                 “Woah, there, Prowler,” Jazz said, stepping between Prowl and Sunstreaker and placing a restraining hand on Prowl’s shoulder. “Sunshine here ain’t gonna hurt Blue. I bet they’re all gonna be best of friends. Now, come on, go check on Mirage; he’s looking bored outta his processor.” Jazz nudged the Enforcer towards the mech in question, Prowl glancing over his shoulder one last time.

                 Jazz watched him walk away before turning back to Ratchet and Sunstreaker with a disarming grin. “Prowl’s kinda adopted Blue. We’re all fond of him, but Prowl treats Blue like a little bro. You gotta know what that’s like,” he said to Sunstreaker.

                 Sunstreaker’s optics automatically flicked up to meet Sideswipe’s worried ones across the room. A moment later and Ratchet observed Sideswipe’s frame loosening, reassured that nothing was happening, and he turned back to his conversation with Hound.

                 “Yeah,” Sunstreaker replied shortly. “I get it. What’s he do for you guys anyway?”

                 “Blue?” Jazz asked, taking a sip from his energon cube. “He’s a sharpshooter. The best we got. I know you wouldn’t think it to look at him…”

                 Narrowed optics followed the movement of gray sensory panels across the room as Bluestreak offered Smokescreen and Ironhide treats. “No,” Sunstreaker replied. “I believe it.”

                 “We really are sorry about yesterday,” Jazz said, taking a step closer and lowering his voice. “Blue goes into another world when he has a rifle in his hands and…”

                 “He knows who Ratchet and Wheeljack are now. It won’t happen again,” Sunstreaker said, interrupting and meeting Jazz’s optics. Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge as if daring Jazz to say differently. Jazz leaned back on his heels and surveyed Sunstreaker in consideration as Ratchet fretted silently between them.

                 “You’re right, it won’t,” Jazz confirmed, nodding once. He suddenly smiled, reaching forward and slapping Sunstreaker on the shoulder, despite the yellow mech’s sneer.

                 “Enjoy the party!” Jazz said and ambled off.

                 Ratchet watched Jazz stride up to Sideswipe and immediately join his and Hound’s conversation. The vet then turned and eyed Sunstreaker.

                 “Is there anything I need to worry about?” Ratchet finally asked.

                 After a moment, Sunstreaker shook his head and took a bite of his energon goodie. “Not a thing,” he said, falling back into his slouch.

                 Ratchet cocked his head to the side and considered his ward. “Do you want to leave?”

                 Again, Sunstreaker shook his head in negative. “Sideswipe’s enjoying himself. He likes to talk, and he finally gets an audience that isn’t me,” he said, indicating the red frame that was now gesturing wildly to an enraptured Bluestreak.

                 “If you’re sure…”

                 “I’m sure.” Sunstreaker turned and gave Ratchet an undecipherable look. “Why don’t you go talk to Ironhide? He keeps staring at you.”

                 Ratchet blinked and looked across the room to see the large black mech meet his optics and then nonchalantly turn his attention back to Smokescreen.

                 “What? Why?” Ratchet sputtered.

                Sunstreaker grinned, shrugging. “We could always go ask him,” he offered.

                Without explanation, Ratchet’s faceplates warmed, and he shook his head. “We will not. In fact, we’re gathering up your brother and getting out of here.”

                “All right,” Sunstreaker said amiably, and followed along behind as Ratchet pushed off from the wall and strode over to Sideswipe.

                “… and then Sunny and I ripped open his… uh… hi, Ratchet,” Sideswipe said catching sight of his guardian. Ratchet frowned at Sideswipe, glancing over to see Bluestreak staring with no small amount of awe at Sideswipe and then Sunstreaker. Hound looked faintly ill while Jazz appeared on the verge of laughter.

                “Your mech’s quite a story teller,” Jazz said, visor shining brightly.

                “Hmm,” Ratchet said, his optics narrowed as he looked Sideswipe over. “Well, I’m sorry to do it, but I have to steal him. We have plans for the rest of the afternoon.”

                “We do?” Sideswipe asked, surprised.

                His brother elbowed him, and Sideswipe grinned suddenly. “We could always delay them. I mean, we haven’t really had a chance to speak with Smokescreen. Or Ironhide,” Sideswipe said, tilting his head just so in an attempt to make himself look as innocent as possible. Ratchet didn’t believe it for a second.

                “You see Smokescreen every day. And Ironhide lives right across from us. I’m sure we’ll catch up with him at some point,” Ratchet said through gritted denta.

                “Aw,” Jazz pouted. “I’d sure like it if you can stay longer.”

                “Mirage and Ironhide need to leave for their shifts,” Prowl said, coming up to their group. “It is as good a time as any to disperse.” Even as Prowl was saying the words, Mirage approached Ratchet from the side and held out his hand. Ratchet automatically shook it.

                “It was a pleasure meeting you and your younglings. Til next time,” Mirage said, giving a slight bow. Ratchet blinked and nodded his head, feeling a little out of sorts when faced with the genteel nobleman turned Enforcer. They had only spoken a few words at the gathering, but Ratchet could already tell that he and Mirage would likely not be spending a lot of time together.

                “Yes, you too. Have a good shift,” Ratchet said, watching Mirage give Hound a look that seemed to transmit a whole conversation and then leave.

                “See ya later, Raj,” Hound said, nodding as his floormate walked by. “Oh, hey, Ironhide, forgot you were on afternoon shift today,” Hound remarked as Ironhide crowded in and reached for Ratchet’s hand.

                “That I am,” Ironhide remarked, his optics fixed on Ratchet’s as Ratchet slowly reached out. Ironhide leaned forward the extra inch and engulfed Ratchet’s hand in his, shaking up and down once before releasing him.

                “Nice to see ya again,” Ironhide said, one optic closing in a slow wink.

                Ratchet’s lipplates twisted in an expression as close to a smile as he could; he feared it came out more like a grimace. He still couldn’t decide how to feel about this mech and each new encounter made him more confused. Ratchet found his optics following Ironhide until he passed the doorway of the rec room and then they landed on the cheerful faceplates of Hound as he stepped in front of Ratchet.

                “I should probably get going too. I have some errands to get done before the night shift. If you ever want to stop by, my door’s always open.”

                “Thank you,” Ratchet murmured, nodding in farewell. Hound had seemed like a nice enough mech. He didn’t appear to have much in common with Ratchet or the Twins, but then none of them had really had a long conversation with him.  

                “Blue, let’s clean up,” Smokescreen said, coming up behind Bluestreak and threading an arm through the gray mech’s.

                “Oh, here, we can help,” Ratchet said, taking a step towards the nearest table.

                Smokescreen reached out and placed a restraining hand against Ratchet’s chassis. “That isn’t necessary. This gathering was for the three of you. As honored guests, you just sit back. Besides there’s not much to do.”

                “Yeah, we got it,” Bluestreak said, jumping up out of his admiring stares of the Twins. “Just sit back and relax.”

                Ratchet looked around and then shrugged helplessly. “If you’re sure.”

                “They’re sure,” Sideswipe said, coming up behind Ratchet and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You don’t have to do everything,” he told Ratchet, his optics lit up with fond amusement.

                The medic ducked his head in embarrassment at the gesture.  Ratchet was getting the feeling that Sideswipe would always be one for reassuring touches, even in public. “It’s only polite.”

                “It is an appreciated offer, but unnecessary,” Prowl said, his optics following Bluestreak as he puttered about the room. “I am very glad we could all meet one another.”

                “We should do it on a weekly basis, yeah?” Jazz suggested, throwing an arm around Prowl’s shoulders.

                Prowl vented an irritated sigh and ducked out from under Jazz. Ratchet caught Sunstreaker mouthing something to Sideswipe out of the corner of his vision.

                “Perhaps,” Prowl responded, but the tone of his voice indicated that that was unlikely.

                “Well, I guess we should get going as well,” Ratchet said, giving the twins an odd look as they seemed to argue amongst themselves with expressions alone.

                “Enjoy the rest of your day,” Prowl said, giving them a curt nod and then striding over to speak with Bluestreak.

                Jazz grinned at Ratchet, raising his energon cube. “Hope to do it again sometime,” he said, before strolling after Prowl.

                “Well, are you two… ready?” Ratchet asked, turning and startling himself with how close the Twins stood behind him.

                “Ready. See ya later, Blue!” Sideswipe called, waving over his shoulder.

                Sunstreaker made a face as the three left the community rec room. “You’re going to make me talk to him, aren’t you?” he asked his brother.

                “Yup. He’s pretty cool, once you get past all the words. Hey, Ratch, what do you think? Jazz and Prowl – tab a, slot b?” Sideswipe asked with a sly grin.

                Ratchet sent an amused look over his shoulder. “That’s none or my business, and especially none of yours.”

                “Yeah, sure. But Blue said that Prowl spends an awful lot of time down in Jazz’s apartment when they’re off duty.”

                “I would expect that from two mechs who have known each other for as long as they have. Don’t you have something better to do than to gossip about the building inhabitants?” Ratchet asked as they finally arrived at their door.

                Sideswipe looked thoughtful. “No, not really.”

                Ratchet paused with his hand on the door lock. “Hmm. We’ll have to work on that,” he commented, looking at the Twins in consideration.

                As Sideswipe looked back warily, Ratchet stepped into the apartment, leaving the door open behind him, thinking about different ways to keep his younglings occupied.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Twins' first day to themselves; lots of Sunstreaker POV

_I’m bored_ , Sideswipe complained over their bond.

                Sunstreaker looked up from his reading and arched an optic ridge at Sideswipe’s back. Sideswipe didn’t appear to be bored; he was engaged in a debate about historical frame structure with Smokescreen and seemed quite passionate about it.

                _You sure about that? Because you seem pretty intent on ruining Smokescreen’s day._ Even from here, Sunstreaker could see the exasperated twitch to their teacher’s fingers as Sideswipe’s voice rose in volume.

                _You think a teacher would have a more open mind,_ Sideswipe mused, sending a sly look over his shoulder at Sunstreaker.

                The yellow mech shook his head. _Stop playing with him. The sooner we get the work done, the sooner we can occupy ourselves._

Sunstreaker almost immediately regretted his words as he felt a spike of desire from Sideswipe.

                “… but I guess you’re right. You know more than I do. What’s next?” Sideswipe said, giving up the argument easily. Sunstreaker had to duck his head again to hide his smile that cropped up at Smokescreen’s dumbfounded expression.

                _That sounds like a great idea,_ Sideswipe purred. He sent a quick data burst to Sunstreaker.  It turned out to be a motion capture picture taken sometime last night. Despite himself, he felt his circuits alight with interest at the close-up of Sideswipe’s hands on Sunstreaker’s spike.

                _That wasn’t what I meant. Primus, do you ever think about anything else?_

 _Sometimes. But not lately. Come on, Ratch said there’s no risk of sparklings._ As open as the bond was at the moment, Sunstreaker felt the brief resurgence of grief on Sideswipe’s end.

                Ratchet had told them last night that in all his research, he hadn’t found an instance of a split spark pair producing offspring. Something about needing two complete and separate sparks. Sunstreaker had never thought about sparklings, but apparently Sideswipe had.  The disappointment and sadness Sideswipe had felt at the news had nearly bowled Sunstreaker over.

                _That doesn’t mean we should just spend the entire day in the berth,_ Sunstreaker replied, thinking wistfully of his sketchpad.

                _Of course. It means we should spend a significant portion of the day in the berth,_ Sideswipe said, his amusement palpable. _Especially since Ratchet won’t be home until late._

The amusement almost immediately faded into another round of sadness, and Sunstreaker vented a sigh. Sideswipe had nearly been despondent after Ratchet had left this morning and only Smokescreen’s arrival had perked him up. The dramatic ups and downs of his twin over the course of the day were beginning to give Sunstreaker a processor ache.

                _He said we could comm him at any time,_ Sunstreaker gently reminded Sideswipe.

                _S’not the same_ , Sideswipe replied, shooting a sad glance over his shoulder.

                Sunstreaker frowned and sent soothing thoughts along the bond. _He’ll be home in a few more hours. Til then, we can stay in the berth as long as you like._

 _No, we can do other things too. There’s more rooms downstairs next to the common area. And I noticed another staircase going down under the bottom floor. Maybe we can explore?_ Sideswipe sounded so hopeful, and Sunstreaker didn’t have the spark to say no.

                _Yeah, we can do that. After Smokescreen leaves._

Sideswipe threw a beaming smile at Sunstreaker, spirits beginning to lift.

                _And after we’re done looking around, we can come back up here, and I’ll blow all your circuits._ The familiar, insidious trickle of lust from Sideswipe made Sunstreaker smile. He caught Smokescreen looking at the expression and promptly scowled. But inside, he was responding with his own desire, making Sideswipe squirm a little.

                _Sounds good, brother._

\--

                They did go exploring. Eventually. After Sunstreaker had tackled Sideswipe to the floor and worked out the charge that had built up during their little game of Who Can Make the Other One Squirm More Without Smokescreen Suspecting Anything?

                And Ratchet was right; Sideswipe was _loud_. Demanding too. But Sunstreaker really didn’t have it in him to deny Sideswipe much of anything when he was writhing and moaning beneath Sunstreaker. He definitely admitted seeing the attraction in Sideswipe’s addiction to interfacing.

                But unlike his brother, he had some restraint. After several overloads, Sideswipe needed no encouragement to fall into a light recharge. Sunstreaker took the opportunity to visit the washracks and take a long, leisurely shower, enjoying the solitude of the echoing room around him. He loved his brother, he truly did. And he anticipated loving Ratchet quite deeply as well, but he still valued his alone time.

                After drying himself off, Sunstreaker brought back a damp towel to wipe down Sideswipe’s belly and thighs. Sideswipe woke up near the end of Sunstreaker’s administrations and tried unsuccessfully to engage Sunstreaker in another round of interfacing. Sideswipe didn’t seem all that disappointed when Sunstreaker gently batted Sideswipe’s clutching fingers away. Instead, he got up, stretching and bouncing on his bad leg with a grin.

                “Barely a twinge. Think you’ll be up to me kicking your aft tomorrow?”

                Sunstreaker huffed, snapping one end of the towel at Sideswipe’s face. He ducked away laughing.

                “You wish,” Sunstreaker remarked. “Come on, you’ve got me curious as to what’s downstairs.”

                “Well, only one way to find out!” Sideswipe flung himself past his brother and rushed out the door with a trailing ‘betcha can’t catch me!’              

                Sunstreaker paused a moment to wonder what it would be like if he had been born an only sparkling and then raced after Sideswipe.

\--

                There was nothing but an empty room adjacent to the common room where they had had their party yesterday. That was somewhat disappointing, but the staircase proved much more interesting as it led down into a basement that had apparently been converted into a training center.

                Sunstreaker stood next to his brother as their optics roved over the many training drones to the assortment of blades and staves hanging on one wall. And in the middle of it all, a large black mech rose from his crouch and narrowed his optics at them.

                “What are you two doing down here?” Ironhide rumbled. He strode over to one of the benches lined up against the wall and picked up a towel, wiping away the condensation that had built up on his overheated frame in the cool air.

                “Just looking around,” Sideswipe said, adopting a posture of nonchalance as he ambled across the room and poked at a blade. “This place off limits?”

                Sunstreaker took another step into the room, keeping a wary optic on the large Enforcer. He observed the strong frame and heavy armor and felt an eager little jump in his spark as he imagined how a fight between them would go.

                “No. Not that I know of.”

                “So I could just come down here anytime I wanted? Pick a drone and go at it?” Sideswipe asked, his optics glinting in a way that Sunstreaker recognized as pre fight excitement.

                “Wouldn’t say that,” Ironhide grunted. “A lot of this stuff is probably over your head.”

                Sideswipe turned to face Ironhide fully, his head cocked to the side. “You sure about that?”

                Ironhide’s gaze rested fully on Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker tensed as the Enforcer rolled his shoulders thoughtfully.

                “Could always find out.”

                “Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker called, suddenly hearing Ratchet’s voice in his processor. “You’re not ready yet.”

                _Could take him,_ Sideswipe replied, voice low and anticipatory.  

                _Probably. But you might get hurt. Ratchet won’t like it._

Sideswipe’s optics cut over to meet Sunstreaker’s, and Sideswipe’s expression changed into a pout. “Yeah. But I will be soon.”

                “Looking forward to it,” Ironhide said as Sideswipe walked back over to his brother’s side. Just as they were about to turn, Ironhide continued on.

                “What about you, Yellow? You ready yet? Or are you just gonna hide behind your brother?” Sunstreaker’s subsiding fighting lust suddenly roared back to life, twice as strong at the taunt.

                “I don’t need him,” Sunstreaker snarled, whipping back around.

                “You sure about that? When have you ever fought on your own?” Ironhide challenged.

                “Positive,” Sunstreaker replied and leapt forward, sidestepping Sideswipe’s outstretched hand. In two steps, Sunstreaker transformed. In another two, he pushed off from the ground, aiming for Ironhide’s throat. It was one of the areas least covered by armor, and Sunstreaker could picture exactly how the lines and struts would crumple under his jaws.

                Except he never reached his target. Ironhide pushed forward, ducked, and met Sunstreaker’s rush with his shoulder at Sunstreaker’s belly. As Sunstreaker’s back legs scrambled uselessly in the air, Ironhide grabbed one and assisted gravity in flinging Sunstreaker hard to the ground.

                The impact hurt, but Sunstreaker was no stranger to pain. He made a motion to bring his feet under him, but Ironhide was quick. Much quicker than Sunstreaker had expected and soon a knee was pinning his lower back while a hand wrapped around his throat.

                Sunstreaker growled and snapped at the air, his free legs straining to rip and tear with his claws. Ironhide let him up an inch and then slammed him back down, a rumbling vibration traveling along Ironhide’s arm into Sunstreaker’s body.

                “Stay!” Ironhide barked, barely looking up as Sideswipe rushed forward.

                _What do you want me to do?_  Sideswipe inquired, worry/fear/hate trickling past the fighting block Sunstreaker had thrown up.

                _Wait._ Sideswipe was injured. Sunstreaker would never forgive himself if Sideswipe reinjured himself attempting a rescue.

                “What are you? A mech, or a dog?” Ironhide asked, leaning forward, just out of range of Sunstreaker’s fangs. “Bein’ a dog’s useful, yeah, but you start out with that, what are you gonna finish with? You just played your hand. Now get up,” Ironhide instructed, releasing Sunstreaker, “and do it again.”

                Sunstreaker’s growls faded away, his body stiff with uncertainty. Again? What did Ironhide mean ‘again’? Sunstreaker had failed; this was the part where he was punished.

                “Come on, up. Transform and do it again.”

                Exchanging a wary glance with his brother, Sunstreaker pushed himself to his feet. His tail balancer swung behind him irritably, and then he transformed at Ironhide’s impatient gesture. As he came to stand vertically, Ironhide tilted his head to the side, and his defensive posture relaxed.

                “Do you even know _how_ to fight as a mech?” he asked, looking thoughtful.

                “Course we do,” Sideswipe interjected, practically vibrating with tension and the urge to stand by his twin.

                Ironhide lowered his head and stared at Sideswipe. “Really?” Ironhide drawled, and Sideswipe ducked his head, gritting his denta.

                “All right, fine. Not really. But it can’t be that hard, right?”

                Ironhide grinned, placing his hands on his hips. “Guess you’re gonna find out, aren’t ya?”

\--

                “What’s wrong?”

                Ratchet startled and glanced over at Wheeljack. Ratchet placed the half-empty energon cube back down on the table and shook his head.

                “Nothing.”

                Wheeljack raised an optic ridge and leaned forward, supporting his helm with his hands.  “Oh, really?”

                The vet shrugged, turning his face away. “I miss them,” he finally admitted. “And Jazz is not as sneaky as he pretends to be. It’s a little unnerving, being followed everywhere.” Ratchet said, remembering catching a glimpse of the smaller black and white mech on his way to the Academy this morning.

                The look in Wheeljack’s optics softened. “Aw, I’m sure they miss you too. And it’s for your own good, if TopNotch is as evil as everyone’s saying he is.”

                “I just thought would have commed me.” Ratchet refused to believe that those wistful sounding words had just emerged from his lipplates. He shook his head and straightened in his chair, reaching for and downing the rest of the energon in one swallow.

                “But they’re probably busy. I’m sure Smokescreen has given them a lot of tasks to work on.”

                “You could comm them yourself,” Wheeljack suggested, rising to follow his friend out of the break area.

                “No, I don’t want to seem protective.”

                Wheeljack laughed, optics sparkling. “Oh, you’re not. No way.”

                Ratchet shoved Wheeljack’s shoulder with his own and grinned a little. “They’re probably fine. I mean, they’re in a building full of Enforcers. How much trouble could they get into?”

\--

                Sunstreaker impacted against the wall with a grunt and landed on the floor with a much larger clang of metal.

                “Good progress,” Ironhide said, walking over and offering a hand.

                Sunstreaker looked up with an incredulous glare. “You threw me against the wall,” he stated.

                “Yeah, but you lasted a whole twenty seconds _before_ he threw you!” Sideswipe helpfully chimed in. From his comfortable position on the floor. Sunstreaker glared at his brother.

                _I can’t wait until you’re better. I’m gonna laugh when_ you _don’t last twenty seconds. I will laugh a lot._

Sideswipe just grinned.

                “You don’t think things through,” Ironhide commented with his arms folded over his chassis. He watched impassively as Sunstreaker picked himself up off the ground and stood.

                “You’re big and strong, but there’s always going to be someone out there bigger and stronger. You can’t just rely on your strength alone. Gotta use what’s up here too,” Ironhide said, tapping a finger on Sunstreaker’s helm. Ironhide jerked his finger back when Sunstreaker snapped his denta at him.

                “You also gotta stop thinking like a dog,” Ironhide said, looking at the tip of his finger thoughtfully.

                “We were dogs for as long as we remember,” Sideswipe spoke up again, echoing Sunstreaker’s thoughts. “It’s hard to just turn off.”

                Ironhide turned to consider Sideswipe, the red mech’s tension beneath his careful posture of indifference. “Yeah. I’m seeing that now. Well…” he said, abruptly shifting and walking over to his belongings on the side wall. “… you start thinking about either how to use that while you’re fighting another mech, or how to shut it down.”

                He placed several small items into subspace and then hefted a large gun, fully the length of his arm, and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m down here most days, same time.” Ironhide carefully didn’t meet either of their optics as he said it.

                Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed. _Is he inviting us to spar with him every day?_

Unconsciously, Sideswipe’s thoughtful head tilt and stare mimicked his brother’s as they both considered their neighbor. _Think so,_ Sideswipe said with a hint of surprise.

                Sunstreaker nodded, a short jerk of his head. “Good for you,” he said, dismissing him as he pulled a soft cloth out of his subspace and starting wiping himself down. After a moment, he held out his arm and stared at the scuffs and scrapes along the outer edges.

                “Ratchet’s gonna notice this,” he told Sideswipe. His walked closer and showed him the wounds. Sideswipe trailed a finger down a gouge on Sunstreaker’s chassis.

                “Maybe we can blame it on interfacing?” Sideswipe asked hopefully. 

                Ironhide’s intakes sputtered in a snort. “That would be some interface,” he said, walking towards the stairs.

                Sideswipe smirked and wound himself around Sunstreaker despite Sunstreaker’s irritable hiss as their armor rubbed together. “You wish, old mech,” Sideswipe purred.

                “Oh, I think I favor a mech with a little more experience. More like your roommate,” Ironhide said and winked one merrily twinkling optic at them before heading up the stairs.

                Sunstreaker snarled, his optics washing red with rage and only his rush forward was stopped only because Sideswipe was still hanging onto him.

                “If he touches Ratchet, I’ll kill him,” Sunstreaker growled, optics fixed on the now empty doorway.

                Sideswipe nuzzled into Sunstreaker’s neck, blowing warm air over Sunstreaker’s taut neck cables. _What’s wrong? Yesterday you were teasing Ratchet about Ironhide. The mech’s just looking._

 _He does a lot of looking,_ Sunstreaker replied, unable to put into words the emotions he felt when he thought a little harder about Ratchet taking Ironhide up on his flirtations.

                Sideswipe propped his chin on Sunstreaker’s shoulder and stared off into the distance. _Ratchet_ is _very pretty,_ he said in a thoughtful tone.            

                Sunstreaker jerked away from his brother, and Sideswipe let him go. Sunstreaker muzzily shook his head, trying to chase after the whisper of emotion that had come with Sideswipe’s words. He lost it, however as Sideswipe flooded the bond with soothing pulses.

                “Not as pretty as you,” Sideswipe hurried to say, patting Sunstreaker’s arm in reassurance.

                “He’s not bad, I suppose,” Sunstreaker said. “But I would love to get my hands on some paint and gloss. His finish is atrocious.”

                Sideswipe tapped a finger on one of Sunstreaker’s scuffs meaningfully. Sunstreaker pulled his arm back and started polishing madly at the reminder.

                “Aw, Sunny. Don’t be like that. Come on, let’s go back upstairs so we can add some truth to the lie,” Sideswipe said, crowding close and ghosting a hand over Sunstreaker’s left helm fin.

                Sunstreaker paused and took a good look at his twin, Sideswipe’s suggestive grin lighting up his faceplates.

                “You really don’t think of anything else, do you?” he asked, his voice and optics wry.

                “With you around…” Sideswipe said, extending his glossa to lick at the sensitive edge of the helm fin. His engine rumbled at Sunstreaker’s small shudder. “… not really.”                      

              

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet comes home from his first long day away from the twins. Sunstreaker angsts.

                Ratchet wearily trudged up the last set of stairs to the apartment, mentally reviewing his day. It had actually been slower than normal at the Academy, and he had only done a handful of physicals on the working dogs at the precinct. It was a little worrisome how exhausted he felt; he was going to have to get used to this schedule quickly as he didn’t foresee many variations to it in the future.

                For now, however, Ratchet was looking forward to cuddling in a nest of blankets and twins. Ratchet had missed them dearly, especially during the hours he had been laying hands on the Enforcer beast mechs. It had taken everything in him not to comm either twin when a particularly friendly dog had licked his hand.

                Right before he reached the door, Ratchet paused, his tanks churning in a scolding manner. His shoulders sagged as he realized he hadn’t had any energon since the midday cube with Wheeljack. He should have remembered to stop by the dispenser before coming up the stairs. With a sigh he began to turn, ready to trudge back to the ground floor. It would be better to grab a cube now before getting comfortable amidst Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. 

                Before he could lift his foot, the door whooshed open, and Ratchet stared a little stupidly into Sideswipe’s smiling faceplates.

                “Ratch! Thought I heard you out there. What are you waiting for, come on in!” Sideswipe reached out and grasped Ratchet’s elbow, pulling. Ratchet went willingly, his spark jumping at the sight of Sideswipe’s faceplates.

                Ratchet followed Sideswipe a few steps into the room before the vet remembered his empty tanks.

                “I need to get some energon…” Ratchet trailed off as Sideswipe released him and pointed at three cubes perched on the end of Sunstreaker’s desk.

                “Already got some,” Sideswipe reported proudly.

                “We thought you might be tired,” Sunstreaker murmured, making Ratchet jump as the yellow mech came up behind him and wound arms around Ratchet’s waist. Sunstreaker squeezed slightly as he rested his chin on Ratchet’s shoulder.

                Ratchet’s optic shutters fell together, and he gratefully leaned back into Sunstreaker’s embrace, his ward’s engine warming his backplates in a relaxing manner.

                “Looks like we were right,” Sideswipe said, coming forward to also wrap his arms around Ratchet, sandwiching the vet between the brothers. “We missed you.”

                “I missed you too,” Ratchet murmured. He twisted his head to place a kiss on Sunstreaker’s cheek and then leaned forward to do the same to Sideswipe’s. Their engines purred louder, and they snuggled closer, radiating contentment.

                Ratchet could have fallen into recharge right there, supported by his wards, but Sunstreaker eventually withdrew, leaving Ratchet’s backplates chilly.

                “Come on, you need fuel. We waited for you,” Sunstreaker said, tugging Ratchet away from Sideswipe. The red mech frowned and pouted but made up for the loss by snuggling into Ratchet’s side as soon as the vet was seated on the floor.

                “How was your day?” Sideswipe asked as Ratchet took small sips of his energon, enjoying the warmed liquid.

                “Good,” Ratchet replied. “There was this one case…”

                The twins drained their own cubes and pressed close, listening as Ratchet described the cases he had worked on and the mechs he had met. They asked the occasional question, but seemed content to just listen for the most part watching Ratchet’s face with adoring intensity.

                Finally, Ratchet leaned back against the wall and looked from Sunstreaker to Sideswipe. “And how was your day?”

                Sideswipe smiled a slow, pleased grin. “Good. Really good.”

                “What did Smokescreen go over with you?”

                It was Ratchet’s turn to listen as Sideswipe described their session with Smokescreen. Sunstreaker would nod at times and interject a comment or two, but let Sideswipe take over the narrative. Ratchet had to admit that the red mech had a talent for storytelling, making even the most mundane activity sound exciting.

                As Sideswipe paused after a joke, Ratchet realized that he had been absent mindedly stroking Sunstreaker’s arm when one of his fingers caught a rough patch in the yellow finish. Ratchet looked down, his optics narrowing as he fingered the scrape.

                “What else have you two been getting up to?” Ratchet inquired, his gaze now picking out several other imperfections in Sunstreaker’s normally faultless frame. There was even a suspicious looking area that could have been a deep dent before self repair.

                Sunstreaker withdrew his arm from Ratchet’s hold and stared down at the blemish.

                “We, uh… well, are you sure you want the details?” Sideswipe asked, looking sheepish.

                Ratchet shook his head in exasperation, finally figuring it out. “You two. You didn’t break each other, did you?” he asked, immediately checking out Sideswipe’s frame, relieved to see far fewer injuries.

                “No.  But hey, think you can look me over tonight? My leg’s feeling great, and I want to be able to _run_ again,” Sideswipe asked, a gleam in his optics.

                “There’s not much room to run around here,” Ratchet said, already turning and indicating for Sideswipe to lay back. He felt a little guilty at not thinking of it earlier; Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were already active models, modified even further for fighting. Ratchet would have to ask Prowl or Jazz if they knew of a way for the twins to get some exercise.

                “I’m sure we could make do,” Sideswipe said, shooting his brother a glance.

                Ratchet huffed a little as he swept his hands over Sideswipe’s hip and leg. “Just take it easy at first.” His optics scanners delved deep into Sideswipe’s frame and analyzed the nearly healed back struts.

                “No problem,” Sideswipe said breezily, optics loosing focus as he enjoyed Ratchet’s touch.

                “Mmm. Your hip and upper leg is completely healed. There’s one strut in your lower back that is almost there. Give it one more day and then you can start working back up to full activity.” Ratchet internally sighed. He had no expectations that either twin would listen to him, but he could hope.

                “Transformation too?” Sideswipe asked eagerly.

                Ratchet nodded, patting Sideswipe’s side. “Yes. I’ll check again tomorrow, but I suspect you’ll be four footed tomorrow night.”

                Sideswipe pumped a closed fist into the air and grinned. “Awesome! Finally!”

                Sideswipe immediately began chattering about all the things he would do once he had the all clear. Ratchet listened for a few moments, smiling in amusement until he realized how still Sunstreaker was next to him. The vet looked over and observed Sunstreaker with concern as the yellow mech stared down at his own hands.

                “Sunstreaker?”  Ratchet asked, brushing his shoulder against the yellow mech’s. “Are you all right?” Sideswipe paused in his prattle and peered around Ratchet, peeking at his brother.

                Sunstreaker looked up and met Ratchet’s optics before dropping his gaze again. “Just tired,” he replied shortly.

                “Well, let’s go get you into recharge then,” Ratchet said, making a move to stand.

                “No!”

                Ratchet paused, optics wide at the vehemence in Sunstreaker’s voice. Even Sideswipe jerked a little, his head cocked to the side and his lipplates beginning to frown. 

                “No,” Sunstreaker repeated, threading his arm through Ratchet’s and sliding closer. “Can’t we just stay here for a little bit longer?”

                Settling back, Ratchet nodded, stroking Sunstreaker’s hand soothingly. “Of course, Sunny. I still have more energon left anyway.”

                Sunstreaker nodded and slouched down so that his face was hidden against Ratchet’s shoulder. The vet pressed another kiss to the top of Sunstreaker’s helm.

                “Nothing bad happened today, right?” Ratchet asked softly, visions of assassins and arson running through his processor.

                Sunstreaker’s head shook in a negative against Ratchet. “Just missed you,” Sunstreaker said, his voice muffled.

                Ratchet instantly began fretting, trying to think of ways he could shorten his schedule or even bring the Twins to work with him. Maybe he could run home for midday energon?

                “We’ll get used to it,” Sideswipe said, reaching over to trail a finger down Sunstreaker’s wrist. Sunstreaker subtly shifted so that Sideswipe’s hand fell away, and Ratchet almost missed the flash of hurt across Sideswipe’s faceplates. Ratchet wondered about Sunstreaker’s rejection of Sideswipe’s comfort. Had they fought today? They were brothers, after all.

                “We know where you are,” Sideswipe continued, speaking to Ratchet. “We can reach you any time.”

                “Of course you can. Do you need anything else for the times I’m gone? Any more art supplies, games?” Inwardly Ratchet winced a little. He knew the answer to the situation wouldn’t be buying them things, but what else could he do?

                “We don’t need anything else,” Sunstreaker said, abruptly withdrawing from Ratchet’s hold, his optics downcast once more. “I’m going to bed,” he said, standing before Ratchet could grab a hold of him. 

                Ratchet stared up at him, mouthplates agape. “Sunstreaker…”

                “Sunny!” Sideswipe said sharply. The red mech was tense at Ratchet’s side and he looked back and forth between the brothers, searching for a reason why Sunstreaker was withdrawing.

                Sunstreaker’s gaze whipped around, and he glared at his brother before turning and striding off through the hallway to the twins’ room. The sound of the room’s door slamming shut was loud in the apartment.

                Ratchet blinked a little, wondering how the cozy family vibe had disappeared in a matter of only seconds. “What just happened?” he wondered aloud.

                Sideswipe’s vents hitched, and then he sighed out a large gust of air. “He’s mad at me,” he said in a matter of fact tone.

                The vet watched as Sideswipe sat up, stretching nonchalantly. “Why is he angry with you?” Ratchet asked, perplexed. If anything, Ratchet thought Sunstreaker was angry with _him._

                Sideswipe peered down into his empty energon cube and then sat it aside with a disappointed look.

                “No reason,” he said, shrugging.

                Ratchet reached out and grabbed Sideswipe’s wrist as the red mech started to stand.

                “There must be some reason,” Ratchet argued.

                Sideswipe gently removed Ratchet’s hand and smiled wryly. “You’ll find that Sunny doesn’t always need a reason.”

                “Well, what do we do?”

                Sideswipe shook his head, bending over to quickly kiss Ratchet’s cheek. Ratchet reached again for the red mech, but Sideswipe deftly escaped his grasp.

                “Nothing, really. Go to bed, Ratch. It’ll be better in the morning.” With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Ratchet to stare with some bemusement at the doorway Sideswipe had disappeared through.

                When had _he_ become the youngling that was sent to bed while the creators fought out of sight?

\--

                _You lied to him,_ Sunstreaker accused as soon as Sideswipe slid their berthroom door open and then closed it behind him.

                _No. I didn’t,_ Sideswipe replied, keeping a healthy distance between himself and his brother. An invisible cloud of anger around Sunstreaker, and Sideswipe knew to be wary of Sunstreaker’s temper. _He asked if anything bad happened today. Nothing did._

Sunstreaker snarled and darted across the room, pushing Sideswipe back against the door with a thud. _You made him believe we were interfacing!_

Sideswipe fearlessly looked into Sunstreaker’s sparking optics. _We were._ Sideswipe attempted to send warm, calming pulses across the bond and then winced as Sunstreaker threw them back into Sideswipe’s metaphorical faceplates. Apparently Sunstreaker wouldn’t be letting him off lightly. 

Sunstreaker shoved Sideswipe again, his faceplates contorted with fury. _That’s not what I mean!_

Sighing, Sideswipe broke his brother’s hold and stepped out from under his reach, going to the bed and flopping down onto it.

                _Look. I never lied. If Ratchet had come out and asked if we had been training with Ironhide, I would have said yes._

 _When he finds out…_ Sunstreaker said, abruptly breaking off. He stared down at Sideswipe, shaking with fury and fear. Sideswipe fought but eventually gave in to the pressing guilt from upsetting his twin. He wouldn’t admit to feeling guilty about Ratchet though, because Sideswipe hadn’t lied, fraggit!

                _Then we’ll handle it then._

“ _You’ll_ handle it,” Sunstreaker said, the growl still evident in his voice.

                “I’ll handle it,” Sideswipe agreed readily. “Sunny…” he said, reaching out.

                Sunstreaker smacked Sideswipe’s arm away and kicked the nearest leg of the berth. “No! If you ruined it…!”

                “It’s going to be fine, Sunstreaker,” Sideswipe said soothingly. “I promise.”

                “You don’t know that,” Sunstreaker insisted. “This is the best thing… we’ll never get another…”

                Sideswipe pushed off from the bed and enfolded Sunstreaker in his arms. Sunstreaker fought briefly and then sagged against Sideswipe, shivering with emotion.

                “I don’t want to go,” Sunstreaker whispered as Sideswipe maneuvered them both to the berth surface.

                “We’re not going to,” Sideswipe whispered back, curling around his brother. _I’m sorry._

\--

                Ratchet paused outside the twins’ door and listened carefully. Earlier there had been a thud and Sunstreaker’s growling voice but things had quickly settled. All he could hear now was the near silent humming of their systems in recharge. The vet wavered back and forth on his feet for a moment and then shrugged. He had been cautioned by many in the Youngling Protection Services that handling twins was a lot different than caring for regular mechs. Each and every day he was reminded of the agents’ words.

                Well, now that he was wide awake, Ratchet figured he might as well visit the washracks before cuddling up with a data pad. Not as comforting as a twin or two, but now that he was back full time at the Academy, he had two separate exams to play catch up for and another at the end of the week.

                The vet straightened up the common area and then let himself out the apartment door. Ratchet paused a moment at the faint sound of voices downstairs, but his processor identified them as Hound and Mirage, and Ratchet continued on to the washracks.

                Ratchet entered the far stall and let the water heat a moment before ducking beneath the pounding spray with closed optics. He sagged, propping himself up against the wall with the palms of his hands and let the water sluice over him. Slowly, the tension that had grown through the day began melting away. He resolutely blocked out the lines of code that seemed devoted to worrying about Sunstreaker and Sideswipe and let himself drift.

                He lulled himself into such a peaceful state that when his proximity sensors alerted him to a mech’s presence nearby, he overreacted. Ratchet jerked away from the wall, onlining his optics to see a blur of black through the sheeting water. His left foot slid in the suds of the washrack cleanser, and he teetered, overbalanced, for a moment before arms reached out and steadied him against a humming chassis.

                Sputtering water from his intakes, Ratchet looked up, and his spark sank.

                “We have got to stop meeting like this,” Ironhide commented, corner of his lipplates curled up in amusement.

                --

                A few hours after they had fallen into recharge, Sunstreaker startled awake. Sideswipe woke shortly after, disturbed by Sunstreaker’s roiling mass of emotions. Sunstreaker felt a little bad about that. But not by much; after all Sideswipe was the cause of Sunstreaker’s uncertainty and fear. Sunstreaker shuddered to think what Ratchet would do or say when he found out that they had met and fought with Ironhide. Their guardian had made it clear that he wanted something different for his wards, and Ironhide was not to interfere with that.

                Sunstreaker didn’t think he would be able to stop, however. It was exhilarating to feel his limbs move, to explore them as he fought upright instead of on four paws. Ironhide didn’t punish him when Sunstreaker wasn’t good enough either. He just made him do it over again. It was a much more exciting method than the ‘learn or die’ practice that had been their whole life.

                He didn’t want to lie to Ratchet; it made his spark sick to think of doing so. But as Sideswipe pointed out, they weren’t really _lying_ so much as not volunteering the information. Sunstreaker sometimes hated how Sideswipe was so much better with words than Sunstreaker was. He didn’t understand how that could be when they’d only had each other to talk with for as long as they could remember.

                Still, omitting the information or not, Sunstreaker felt awful and had worked himself up to the point he had to see Ratchet for himself to believe that their guardian hadn’t left them in disgust. He had pushed at his brother until Sideswipe had gained his feet and they crept from their room and down the hallway.

                Ratchet’s door was unlocked as he had promised it always would be.  They slid through the opening, Sideswipe sliding the door closed behind them. In seconds, Sunstreaker reached the bed and placed his front feet on the edge, peering eagerly down into Ratchet’s face.

                Sunstreaker did not expect to see Ratchet peering back. The dog yelped as dim optics met his, and he scrambled backwards, claws raking shallow furrows in the berth’s edges.

                “Sunny?” Ratchet questioned, sitting up. “Sides? Is everything all right?”

                “Yeah, everything’s fine,” Sideswipe said, recovering from his surprise against the door. “We just… we were checking on you,” he finished lamely. If Sunstreaker had been bipedal, he would have smirked. It was comforting that Sideswipe’s flair for words could still elude him at times.

                Ratchet looked at Sideswipe’s embarrassed faceplates and then at Sunstreaker. He reached out a hand, digits immediately digging in behind Sunstreaker’s left audio flap.

                “Well, I’m fine, as you can see,” Ratchet said, gesturing to himself. Sunstreaker caught the odor of cleanser as Ratchet’s arm swept through the air. Beneath that was another faint scent that tickled at the back of Sunstreaker’s processor. He shuffled forward, nosing along Ratchet’s arm in an attempt to get another whiff.

                Ratchet quickly stood. “Do you two want some company tonight?” he asked.

                Sunstreaker nodded, nose butting at the back of the vet’s hand. He let out a short bark and then padded over to the door, waiting for either his brother or Ratchet to open it.

                Ratchet grinned down at Sunstreaker, indicating for Sideswipe to open the door. “Guess you’re right. My berth will be too small for all of us.”

                Sunstreaker wagged his tail slowly in reply, following Ratchet out. Sideswipe took up the rear, speaking his brother’s thoughts.

                “Maybe we should move your couch in,” Sideswipe suggested as they made their way into the twins’ room.

                Ratchet shot him a wry look. “Maybe we shouldn’t. I think you two deserve your alone time.”

                The vet climbed onto the bed, lying on his back with a sigh. Sunstreaker jumped up into the space closest to the wall and cocked his head to the side, considering their guardian as Ratchet rubbed at a spot on his helm between his optics.

                “You all right, Ratch?” Sideswipe said, exchanging a glance with Sunstreaker and speaking for them both.

                “Just tired,” Ratchet replied, keeping his optics offlined. “And it’s not because of you,” he emphasized, darting out a hand and getting a grip on Sunstreaker’s collar seam before he could slink away. Sunstreaker whined low in his vocalizer, worried that they had inadvertently robbed Ratchet of recharge.

                “I think I’ll be able to get some rest now,” Ratchet murmured, releasing his grip to slowly massage the base of Sunstreaker’s nearest ear. Sunstreaker tilted his head to the side to allow better access, still worriedly gazing on Ratchet’s outstretched form.

                “Is there anything we can do?” Sideswipe asked after Sunstreaker nudged him along the bond. Sideswipe slowly crawled onto the bed, gingerly lying down next to Ratchet.

                “Mmm, no,” Ratchet said, turning and burrowing his head against Sideswipe’s chassis. Sideswipe blinked wide optics at Sunstreaker, and all Sunstreaker could do was awkwardly shrug.

                _Something happened,_ Sunstreaker said, scooting forward to lay his head along Ratchet’s upper arm. The hand on Sunstreaker’s head slowly stilled and then slid off as the vet slipped almost immediately into recharge.

                _Maybe he’s just tired,_ Sideswipe said, lying stiffly, unwilling to jostle Ratchet to get into a better position.

                _Or maybe something happened,_ Sunstreaker insisted, his upper lipplates rising involuntarily in a silent snarl at the thought that Ratchet had been hurt.

                _Like what? We were recharging for barely an hour._ Sideswipe ever so slowly slid his arm out from under himself and under Ratchet’s neck instead. Ratchet mumbled something nonsensical and fell silent again.

                _I don’t know!_ Sunstreaker fretted internally, but refused to fidget or do anything else to wake Ratchet. _But he’s not acting right, and he smells weird!_

                _He smells like he always does,_ Sideswipe said after leaning forward and pressing his nasal ridge against the side of Ratchet's neck. _Look, let’s just let him rest and we’ll talk with him in the morning. We’re here with him; nothing’s going to happen now,_ Sideswipe said reasonably.

                Sunstreaker pressed closer to Ratchet’s side, his olfactory sensors catching another whiff of the elusive scent he had smelled earlier. Once again, it drifted by too quickly for Sunstreaker to pinpoint. Frustrated and annoyed, he settled in, optics darting around the dark room in careful watchfulness until recharge took him too.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet wakes up and makes a decision. Sorta. Wheeljack was feeling lonely and decided to make an appearance.

              Ratchet woke with his limbs tangled between Sideswipe’s, and his backplates warmed by Sunstreaker’s bulk.  The vet stretched just enough to prompt Sideswipe’s optics to flicker before the red mech mumbled and curled closer.

                Ratchet craned his neck and looked up at Sideswipe’s serene faceplates, feeling the slow movement of air from Sunstreaker’s vents behind him. Ratchet wanted nothing more than to lay sandwiched between the twins all day, but a hollow feeling in his tanks reminded him that it was only a few minutes before his alarm would go off. He automatically silenced it, his processor beginning to clear after the night’s defragmentation programs. A movement to sit up was abruptly aborted as Ratchet’s memory banks rebooted.

                Unbidden, the sensation of Ironhide’s hands on Ratchet’s shoulders popped up in the forefront of his processor. Ratchet shuddered, remembering Ironhide’s spicy-clean scent, the exact shade of his optics as the Enforcer bent to bring his lips into contact with Ratchet’s.

                Ironhide’s touch had felt so _good_ , and Ratchet had let it linger for far too long before shoving the mech away. Ironhide had merely smiled at him indulgently, mutely handing Ratchet the bottle of cleanser before turning back to his own stall.

                Ratchet had stupidly stared at the bottle for several long moments before hurriedly throwing some cleanser on himself and finishing up his shower. What had started out as a thoroughly relaxing moment morphed into something awkward and tense. Ratchet had left the washracks shortly after, still damp from his hurried towel down and resolutely refusing to meet Ironhide’s optics.

                When he entered the apartment, it had seemed large and echoing; his berth dark and lonely. Ratchet had stared at the back of his optic shutters for some time before the twins had snuck in. Their presence was a welcome one, and he had eagerly followed them back to their room, the yearning to be surrounded by their easy love and comfort almost painful.

                The three of them had only known each other for such a short amount of time, and yet the way they fit together was if they had been a family for years. Ironhide was handsome and obviously willing, but Ratchet didn’t know if indulging in that desire would lose him the family that had suddenly sprung up around him.

                Ratchet sighed and laid his head back down, reveling in the thrumming energy and warmth of the frames around him. Then he just about jumped out of his own as a voice spoke above his head.

                “What’s wrong, Ratchet?”

                Startled-wide optics looked up to see Sideswipe peering down at Ratchet. The red mech’s frame was still relaxed and loose, but his faceplates were full of concern. Ratchet had the sneaking suspicion that if he looked over his shoulder, he would find Sunstreaker awake and gazing at him in the same way.

                Ratchet shook his head ruefully. “Nothing really.”

                “Are you sure? You can tell us,” Sideswipe offered, optics deep and sincere. For an instant, Ratchet was tempted. Then he remembered how Sideswipe and especially Sunstreaker bristled around Ironhide. Even if they accepted Ironhide as an individual, how would they feel if Ratchet spent time with the Enforcer when Ratchet’s time was already heavily divided up between the Academy and work?

                No, Ratchet decided abruptly. He would have to speak with Ironhide as soon as possible and let him know that whatever it was that between them was ending. Immediately.

                Decision made, Ratchet looked back up to see Sideswipe frowning. Sunstreaker was a tense coil of readiness at Ratchet’s side.

                “Thank you, but no,” Ratchet said, a small smile forming now that he had somewhat of a plan. “I think I got it figured out now. Are you ready for our morning energon?”

                Sideswipe and Sunstreaker took their cues from their guardian. After exchanging a long look, they relaxed and unfolded themselves, Sunstreaker transforming while Sideswipe offered Ratchet a hand off the berth. They all trooped downstairs, the twins ignoring Ratchet’s insistence that he could manage the cubes on his own.

                At the energon dispenser, Ratchet nodded genteelly at Mirage and exchanged a few pleasantries with Hound. The Twins loomed behind him the entire time and managed not to fidget _too_ much. Hound glanced up and over Ratchet’s shoulder near the end of the conversation and smiled, his optics twinkling a little.

                “Well, I have reports to write, and I’m sure that you have things that need attending to,” he said as Mirage moved up behind the green mech. Hound stepped to the side without looking, the two fitting into each other’s space like a well oiled drone.

                “That I do,” Ratchet agreed. “Have a good day, both of you. Be safe.”

                “To you as well,” Mirage said in his soft, pleasant voice, and they departed the rec room.

                “Finally,” Sunstreaker muttered. Ratchet arched an orbital ridge at his ward, and Sunstreaker ducked his head a little.

                “Do you think the two of them…” Sideswipe asked, tilting his head thoughtfully as he stared after Hound and Mirage.

                Ratchet huffed as he topped off his energon cube and subspaced it.

                “Do you really go around speculating on everyone’s interfacing habits?” Ratchet asked, as they left the common room.

                Sideswipe shrugged. “Just the ones who are obviously fragging.”

                “Language!” Ratchet admonished.

                The red mech shot a confused look at Ratchet. “What about it?”

                Sunstreaker elbowed his brother, making Sideswipe stumble up the last step to the second floor landing. “Stop being vulgar.”

                Sideswipe looked askance at his brother. “’Vulgar’? What in the Pit does that mean?”

                Sunstreaker sighed. “You didn’t pay attention when Smokescreen did vocabulary yesterday, did you? It means crude or unrefined.”

                “No, not really,” Sideswipe said, grinning and unrepentant. They continued up the stairs until they reached the apartment doorway. As Ratchet keyed in the door code, Sideswipe’s head tilted to the side and a thoughtful expression crossed his faceplates.

                “Do you think he chose that word on purpose?” he asked.

\--

                “So about last night…” Ironhide said, appearing at Ratchet’s side as if he were a processor figment. They were halfway between the apartment building and the farthest edge of the Academy grounds.

                Ratchet jerked violently to the side, nearly knocking a couple off their feet. He ended up plastered against the nearest building, clutching at his chassis. His spark was beating wildly in his chest as he glared at Ironhide.

                “What… why…!” Ratchet stuttered, panting. 

                Ironhide bent his head to the side and smirked just a little. Ratchet refused to admit how rakish it made Ironhide appear; instead, Ratchet covered up his attraction and fear with anger.

                “You aft! Supposedly I’ve got assassins waiting around every corner to tear out my spark and you just sneak up on me like a sparkling!” Ratchet spat, reaching out to smack Ironhide across the chassis.

                Suddenly, realization dawned in Ironhide’s optics, and he ducked his head a little, smile fading. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you knew I was with you this morning.”

                Some of Ratchet’s anger bled away as he saw how contrite Ironhide was. “Well, I didn’t. Most of the time it’s Jazz, and I only catch glimpses of him.”

                Ironhide began walking, Ratchet automatically following. When he realized what he was doing, he wanted to stop and gain a few feet in between them, just for spite. He decided against it however; acting like a spoiled sparking wouldn’t get him to the Academy any quicker.

                “Yeah, Jazz is a sneaky sort. But we usually take turns. Just happened to be mine today. Sorry,” Ironhide repeated. “Next time I’ll tell you. I’ll even be a gentlemech and meet you at the door to walk you down the stairs,” he said, grinning. Ironhide looped an arm through Ratchet’s before Ratchet even knew what had happened. They walked together like that for several steps before Ratchet pulled away.

                “Don’t do that. Please.” Ratchet kept his head down, optics on the ground under his feet.

                “Oh? Would you rather I threw you over my shoulder?” Ironhide asked, rumbling with amusement.

                “I’d rather you didn’t touch me at all,” Ratchet retorted.

                There was silence except for the noise of the crowds around them. Ratchet refused to look up at Ironhide’s faceplates.

                “Ya sure about that?” Ironhide asked carefully.

                “Yes,” Ratchet muttered, wincing internally when he heard his vocalizer speak the word in a plaintive, questioning tone.

                “Hey,” Ironhide said. “Hey.” He reached out and grabbed Ratchet’s arm. Ratchet’s momentum swung him around so that he was facing the Enforcer, and Ratchet reluctantly looked up.

                “Listen. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I think you’re good looking, and I like your spunk. I’d like to become more than neighbors, if you know what I mean,” Ironhide said, winking an optic.

                “That’s…” Ratchet said, unconsciously leaning in towards the larger mech and his enticingly deep blue optics. “…that can’t happen.” Ratchet shook himself and out of Ironhide’s grasp, picking up walking again.

                “Can I ask why?” Ironhide asked, easily falling into step next to him.

                “I… it’s not that I’m not interested. Because I am,” Ratchet admitted, glancing at Ironhide out of the corner of his eye to see him grinning happily at the words. “I think you’re good looking too.”

                “So what’s wrong with two good looking mechs havin’ a good time?” Ironhide asked, nudging Ratchet’s shoulder.

                “It’s the twins,” Ratchet blurted out. “Understandably, they’ve very clingy and unsure right now. I barely spend any time with them as it is, and it wouldn’t be fair…”

                “For you to come back to them relaxed and satisfied?” Ironhide broke in.

                Ratchet blinked large optics at the Enforcer, startled.

                “Hey, I’m not saying spend every non-recharge moment with me. I don’t want to take you away from the youngin’s. I know they need you. I think you need them too,” Ironhide said, giving Ratchet a considering look. “But they can’t give you everything ya need. Just think about it. I got time.”

                Ironhide fell silent, staring ahead and striding along as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Ratchet was equally silent, emotions and thoughts torn anew. What if Ironhide was right? Sunstreaker and Sideswipe meant the world to him, but Ratchet had to admit that he had certain desires the twins couldn’t fulfill. He certainly wasn’t promiscuous, but he did enjoy a good interface on a regular basis. Ratchet was in a high stress residency and sometimes a good round of high grade and interfacing was the only way to stay sane.

                Ratchet peeked at Ironhide before darting his optics forward. “What… what would I tell them?” Ratchet asked quietly.

                Shrugging, Ironhide glanced down to meet Ratchet’s optics. “That’s your business.”

                “You’re not helpful,” Ratchet huffed in irritation.

                Ironhide slid an arm around Ratchet’s waist, digits a searing touch along Ratchet’s lower back. “Oh, but I can be,” Ironhide purred, sending a shiver down Ratchet’s back struts. “I can be.”

\--

                “Remember I told you about Ironhide?” Ratchet asked, plopping down on the stool next to Wheeljack. His friend startled, a microscopic tool flying out of his hand and skidding across the table surface. Wheeljack stared after it for a moment before turning dazed optics onto Ratchet.

                “What?”

                Ratchet ducked his head to better peer into Wheeljack’s faceplates. “’Jack, did you stay here again last night?”

                Wheeljack blinked and looked around. “Um…” he paused while he accessed his time functions. “Yes?”

                Ratchet sighed and laid a hand atop Wheeljack’s. “Did you refuel at all this morning? Or last night even?”

                Optics darting to the side in a tell tale fashion, Wheeljack shifted on his stool, gently placing his other tools on the tabletop. “Maybe?”

                Grinning wryly, Ratchet stood, hooking an arm through Wheeljack’s. “Come on, let’s get some fuel into you. I’m sure the administrators would like to keep their explosion numbers down.”

\--

                “So he propositioned you? In the middle of the street?” Wheeljack asked, optics bright and focused now that he was on his second cube of energon.

                “Well… more like the middle of the sidewalk,” Ratchet hedged.

                “I think you like him,” Wheeljack commented in a sing song voice, leaning forward and propping his chin on a palm. “Pit, I think _I_ like him. Mech’s got ball bearings, that’s for sure.”

                “Yes, but…”

                “Ratch, you’re thinking about this way too hard,” Wheeljack said, waving a hand through the air and sitting back. He sipped at his cube and gave a pleased humming sound.

                “He’s attracted to you. You’re practically drooling lubricant over him… no, no!” Wheeljack said, laughing, avoiding Ratchet’s smack. “It’s been since, what… Tilt… that was his name, wasn’t it? Yeah, since Tilt that you’ve been even remotely involved with someone. The mech doesn’t seem to be asking for more than a fling, and he appears to get how much the Twins mean to you. I say go for it.”

                “But what do I tell Sideswipe and Sunstreaker?” Ratchet asked, slumping dejectedly.

                “Honestly? It’s none of their slagging business. They’ve already shown how possessive and protective they are of you. If you don’t set some boundaries, it’s just gonna get worse.” Wheeljack said. “Look, I like the kids, but they can’t run your life. You deserve a little fun sometimes.”

                Wheeljack leaned forward again, patting Ratchet’s knee. “And this mech certainly sounds fun.”

                Ratchet fiddled with his cube, staring down into the depths. “I don’t know…” he said, remembering the promise he had made to himself only hours ago.

                “Well, I do. When you get home tonight, sit them down and talk with them. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

                Ratchet sighed. “Yeah, I’ll try,” he said, doubtful that either twin would really ‘understand’.

                “Good mech,” Wheeljack said, nodding, throwing back the rest of his cube. He made a motion to stand, and Ratchet quickly shot an arm out, halting Wheeljack. The science student looked at Ratchet inquiringly.

                “Have you found another roommate yet?” Ratchet asked, checking his chronometer; they still had a few minutes left on their break.

                “Naw. Doubt I’ll get anyone interested anyway since it’s the middle of the semester.”

                “You have to take care of yourself, ‘Jack,” Ratchet said, his optics tracing the dirt smudges on Wheeljack’s frame. “You know you tend to forget to recharge. And refuel,” he said, clinking the edge of his cube against Wheeljack’s. They were both workaholics, but Ratchet was the better of the two at remembering the necessities of life. Now that they lived apart, Ratchet worried that Wheeljack would forget his own health in favor of the next invention or project.

                Wheeljack waved a lazy hand. “I will, don’t worry,” he said. Ratchet didn’t trust him in the slightest, and vowed to check in with Wheeljack on a daily basis at mid day to remind him to at least take some energon.

                “Hey, you remember that Enforcer mech who had a gun on you the other day?” Wheeljack asked, suddenly changing topics.

                Ratchet eyed him warily, not certain if Wheeljack’s eccentric processor was really just bouncing from topic to topic or that the mech was trying to avoid further conversation on the health subject.

                “… Bluestreak? Prowl’s cousin?”

                “That’s the one!” Wheeljack exclaimed. “Found him wandering around the grounds yesterday afternoon. He was totally lost, but I pointed him in the direction of your building. Was he supposed to walk with you last night?”

                “Uh… I’m not sure. So far, Ironhide’s the only one who has announced himself.”

                “The mech’s just adorable,” Wheeljack commented. “I can’t believe he’s their best shooter.”

                Ratchet remembered the innocently boisterous mech from the building’s meet and greet and nodded. “It is hard to believe. Although if he was supposed to be watching over me last night, he did a good enough job of hiding that I didn’t know he was there.”

                “Hmmm.” Wheeljack nodded as well, staring off into space for a few moments. Then he tossed his head and shrugged. “I bet you there’s a story behind that one.”

                “There is,” Ratchet said absently, optics randomly scanning the room. His armor had suddenly begun prickling as if he was being watched; he vowed to thank Prowl and Optimus for the paranoia that had wormed his way into his code.

                Nothing seemed out of place until he glanced out a nearby window. Then he stiffened as he caught a glance of a dark frame looming over the heads of nearby mechs. Ironhide met Ratchet’s optics and gave him a wink before continuing on past the building.

                “Oh, really?”

                Ratchet jumped a little and turned back around to see Wheeljack’s helm fins flashing a light green color of curiosity. Ruefully, Ratchet shook his head, focusing on the conversation.

                “Oh, no. That’s definitely not my story to tell. I only know what I know as a warning from Prowl.”

                “Interesting,” Wheeljack said, drawling the word out.

                Ratchet laughed. “Careful, my friend. That one has a very protective, high ranking Enforcer looking out for him. We may never find your body.”

                Wheeljack shook his head, likely grinning under the mask. They both stood as their chronometers indicated their break was over. “I’ll be careful. Prowl likes me. Or at least I think he does.” The pair began walking into down the hallway that led to their respective buildings

                “Hey, let me know what you decide,” Wheeljack said as they neared the stairs that would take Wheeljack to his lab. “I want details.” His helm fins flashed a saucy pinkish purple.

                Ratchet made a face and shoved at Wheeljack’s shoulder. “You’ll be the first to know.”

                They said their goodbyes and parted ways, Ratchet’s processor eagerly embracing thoughts about the cases he was going back to. They were much more preferable to think about than the hulking Enforcer not so subtly trailing Ratchet’s every step.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sideswipe begins pranking. This one is entirely from Ratchet's POV.

             A mere hour after lunch, Ratchet’s communication line pinged. He huffed irritably as he was wrist deep in the abdomen of a society mech’s pet; the creature had been injured quite badly from a collision with a drone transport and had required surgery. Nevertheless, he sent the signal to activate his receiver even as he barked out orders to the attending technician.

                **What?**

                **Ratchet?** An unfamiliar, timid voice echoed in his processor.

                **Who is this?** Ratchet demanded, distracted by an arching spurt of energon.

                **It’s Smokescreen. I’m calling about the twins.**

                **What about them?** Ratchet asked, hands flying to clamp off leaking lines.

                **Well, they painted me pink and disappeared after midday break. I can’t find them anywhere,** Smokescreen replied. **Today is the day we were supposed to be in lessons until early evening.**

 **So no injuries and nothing destroyed that can’t be easily repaired?** Ratchet inquired.

                **Well… no, I guess not. I’ll have to be repainted, but…**

                **Great. If anything changes, let me know, but I got to go.** Ratchet abruptly ended the transmission as the spark monitor began beeping alarmingly.

                “Where in the Pit is that energon for the transfusion!?” Ratchet thundered, almost immediately forgetting the conversation.

\--

                It was hours later as Ratchet was trudging to the Precinct when he recalled exactly _what_ Smokescreen had said. Cursing, he slid to a stop earning the glare of the mech behind him. Apologizing, he transformed and then stepped into a nearby shop to activate his comm.

                **Yes?**

                **Smokescreen. Hi. Any more word on the Twins?** Ratchet questioned, refusing to be worried. They were younglings. Younglings got into trouble. It happened all the time. It didn’t make him a bad guardian that he had forgotten about them going missing, did it?

                **I saw them briefly an hour ago. They were skulking around on the ground floor. Then I lost track them again,** Smokescreen said. **By the way, I’m still _pink_.**

                Ratchet’s processor whirled for a moment before he responded. **How can you _lose_ them? How big is the building exactly?**

               **I’m not their babysitter, Ratchet** , Smokescreen replied frostily. **I’m their tutor. You want them found, find them yourselves.**

                Ratchet winced as the connection slammed closed with a screech. Ratchet recalled his last words to Smokescreen and sighed. He hadn’t meant it to sound like it had; he would have to apologize as soon as he got home. But first…

                Ratchet reactivated his comm, pausing a moment before sending a transmission. Finally he made a decision and pulled up a specific frequency.

                **Sunstreaker.**

There was a long pause where Ratchet felt the communication line open up, but no response. Finally, Sunstreaker replied.

                **It was Sides’ idea,** he said flatly.

                **We’ll sort that out later,** Ratchet said soothingly. **I just need to know that the both of you are all right. Smokescreen said he couldn’t find you.**

Another long pause occurred while Ratchet fidgeted and the shopkeeper stared at him curiously.

                **We’re fine. Are we in trouble?** The question was asked in a wary tone, and Ratchet knew to be careful with his next words.

                **I don’t know yet. I don’t know all the details. I’m on my way to the Precinct and will be there for the next few hours. When I get home, we’ll talk. All right?**

 **Yeah, ok,** Sunstreaker replied, sounding resigned

                **Sunstreaker,** Ratchet called before the connection could close.

                **… yes?** Sunstreaker asked, even more wary now.

                **I love you. Even if you paint _me_ pink, I’ll love you, ** Ratchet said warmly. **By the way, did you take any pictures? I’m sure Smokey looks lovely in his new color.**

 **I didn’t. But I’m sure Sides did,** Sunstreaker said, his voice beginning to lose its worry induced tightness.

                **Great. Well, I’ll be home in a few more hours. If Smokescreen will take you back, I’d like for you to spend some more time with him like you were supposed to earlier,** Ratchet suggested.

                **Alright. I’ll make my idiot brother apologize,** Sunstreaker said with the air of long exasperation.

**Thank you, Sunstreaker. I’ll see you later.**

Ratchet clicked off his comm. and smiled to himself. Hopefully that would take care of things until he got home.

                 Just as he exited the storefront, another communications pinged his processor.

                **Yes?**

 **It was my idea, don’t blame Sunny,** Sideswipe said in a rush.

                **Like I told Sunstreaker, we’ll talk about it when I get home. But I want you both to apologize to Smokecreen as well as meet back up with him for your missing lessons.**

 **Are you mad?** Sideswipe asked, sounding mournful.

                **I’m… disappointed. But even if I were mad, nothing would change between us,** Ratchet said, reassuring his youngling. **I still love you and your brother.**

 **Oh, good,** Sideswipe said, tone relieved. He paused before speaking again. **So does that hold true for anything that we do?**

 **Go apologize to Smokescreen, Red,** Ratchet said, beginning to understand where Sunstreaker’s exasperation came from.

                **Ok, will do! Love ya, Ratch!** The comms shut off abruptly, and Ratchet was left shaking his head in bemusement.

                “Love you too, Sides,” he murmured.

\--

                Ratchet was feeling a little nervous about how the evening would go when he walked into the apartment later that night. He observed Sunstreaker sitting at his desk with a sketch pad in front of him and Sideswipe at his feet, playing one of his hand held games. Three cubes of steaming energon sat on the edge of Ratchet’s desk.

                The twins looked up, but didn’t immediately greet him. Instead they ducked their heads and avoided optic contact. Ratchet huffed a little, more amused than anything by their reactions. He tossed his kit onto his desk and unloaded several data pads from subspace.

                “So, how was your day? Interesting, from what I hear,” Ratchet remarked.

                “No, wait,” he said when Sideswipe opened his mouth. “I’m going to go wash up, and then we can talk.”

                Sideswipe frowned, but then he nodded. He warily watched Ratchet as he approached Sideswipe on the way out of the apartment. The red mech stilled as Ratchet bent forward and placed a kiss on top of Sideswipe’s helm. Sunstreaker was equally rigid as a kiss was bestowed on him as well. The twins were quiet as Ratchet left.

                The washrack was empty and quiet as Ratchet entered it. He cleaned himself with half an optic on the door expecting Ironhide to slink through at any moment and smolder at him. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, and Ratchet came back into the apartment, grabbed a cube and plopped down on the blankets with a sigh.

                “So, what happened with Smokescreen?” Ratchet asked, looking up through lowered optic shutters at the twins. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker exchanged glances before Sideswipe made a face and crawled over to sit in front of Ratchet.

                “I was bored,” Sideswipe admitted. “Smokey gave us a break and went upstairs for more data pads. I rigged up a bucket to drop the paint on him when he walked back in. When he went to clean up, we left.”

                Ratchet leaned forward and examined the front door. Now that he was looking, he could see the occasional pink smudge around the frame.

                “Where did you get the paint from?” Ratchet asked.

                Sunstreaker shifted on his seat, optics still downcast.

                “Ah,” Ratchet said, realization dawning. “From the supplies I bought a few days ago?”

                Shoulders slumping dejectedly, Sunstreaker nodded.

                Ratchet nodded thoughtfully and took another sip of his energon. Leaning back, he considered first one twin and then the other.

                “Did you apologize to Smokescreen?”

                Sideswipe snuck an annoyed glance at his brother before nodding. “You can ask him if you want. We told him that we would repaint him. Or rather, Sunny will,” he said, after Sunstreaker’s shoulders straightened, and he made a huffing sound at Sideswipe.

                “As a matter of fact, I did ask him. He said you both seemed very apologetic, and he forgives you,” Ratchet said, causing Sideswipe to heave a relieved sigh. Fortunately, Smokescreen was also forgiving of Ratchet’s earlier words over the comm.

                “But… I think there are still some things that need addressed.” Sideswipe and Sunstreaker tensed up all over again.

                “No one was hurt this time, but someone could have been…”

                “It was just paint!” Sideswipe protested.

                “Paint which could have gotten into Smokescreen’s optics or even his processor causing significant damage,” Ratchet said, raising his voice a little to speak over Sideswipe. “In addition, your possessions are yours to do with what you want. But until you actually make the money to buy things like paint, you may want to think twice about wasting what you already have.”

                Sunstreaker threw himself back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chassis and glared at his brother. “See?” he growled.

                “You didn’t even like the color,” Sideswipe argued.

                Ratchet waved a hand through the air, catching their attention before the argument disintegrated. “Sideswipe, you’ve already said that this was your idea. Sunstreaker… what part did you have to play?”

                Sunstreaker tapped a finger on his opposite arm before eventually speaking in a low tone. “I gave him the paint.”

                “And helped set up the bucket,” Sideswipe supplied, glowering at Sunstreaker. Ratchet had to wonder what conversation was happening over their bond the way the twins were glaring at one another.

                Sunstreaker made an aborted move towards Sideswipe but sank back into his chair at Ratchet’s pointed look. “And helped set up the bucket,” Sunstreaker muttered, looking away from both of them.

                “Because he asked you to?” Ratchet prompted.

                Sunstreaker’s expression turned confused as his head swiveled to meet Ratchet’s look. “Yes?”

                “You realize you can tell him ‘no’, right?” Ratchet said, hoping the point would come across. In the short time Ratchet had been exposed to the twins, he had discovered that Sideswipe was the more outgoing, the one better able to use words to get what he wanted. And Sunstreaker was not immune to Sideswipe’s charm.

                Sunstreaker now looked uncertain as he glanced from Sideswipe to Ratchet. “I know that.”

                “Good,” Ratchet said, nodding sharply. “Remember that in the future. Because whether or not it was Sideswipe’s idea… you still helped; you’re still responsible.”

                At Sunstreaker’s dejected look, Ratchet reached out and patted him on the knee. “Remember, I told you that nothing changes between us, all right? Go grab those cubes and get down here.” As he said it, he reached out for Sideswipe’s arm and tugged him closer. Sideswipe was reluctant at first, but quickly settled against Ratchet’s side when he made it clear just wanted to hold Sideswipe close.

                Sunstreaker was even more unenthusiastic, sitting down stiffly next to Ratchet. Ratchet quickly drained his cube and threw his arm around Sunstreaker’s shoulders. Inch by inch, Sunstreaker gradually relaxed until he rested his cheek on Ratchet’s shoulder and sighed.

                “Sounds like an interesting day,” Ratchet murmured.

                Sideswipe chuckled softly. “We enjoyed it. How about you? What did you get up to today?”

                --

                Shortly after Ratchet finished describing the emergency surgery he had performed earlier that day, Sideswipe squirmed and thrashed until he was in Ratchet’s lap. He looked up at Ratchet with earnest optics.

                “Scan me now?” Sideswipe asked, levering his injured leg up into the air.

                Ratchet leaned against Sunstreaker’s shoulder and raised an optic ridge. “Why should I? I’m not so sure you’re deserving of my scanning abilities right now.”

                “Awww, come on, Ratch,” Sideswipe said, squirming even more and making his faceplates into the most pitiful expression Ratchet had ever seen. “I said I was sorry. And Smokescreen forgave us.”

                “I don’t know…”

                “Please…”

                Ratchet huffed a sigh and nodded. “Oh, all right. Get off of me so I see your back struts.”

                 As Sideswipe shot up, Sunstreaker muttered lowly. “Just say ‘no’, huh?”

                Smiling ruefully, Ratchet bent over Sideswipe, activating his optical scanners. Ratchet carefully looked over the welds in Sideswipe’s upper thigh and lower back. Humming thoughtfully, Ratchet stroked over Sideswipe’s hip noting that the scars to be undetectable to the touch. Internally, the welds were strong and nearly invisible to Ratchet’s scanners.

                “Looks good,” Ratchet said finally. “You’re good to transform.”

                With a happy shout, Sideswipe pushed himself upright, took two steps away and folded into his beast form, all in less than five seconds. Ratchet blinked his optics several times in surprise.

                “Wow,” Ratchet said. “Guess you were waiting for that for a while.”

                Sideswipe shook himself, yipping twice before darting forward and swiping his tongue over Ratchet’s cheek. A yellow arm reached forward past Ratchet’s face and pushed the large red head away as Ratchet laughed.

                “You’re ridiculous,” Ratchet said as Sideswipe leaped from side to side, barking excitedly. “What are you… oomph!”

                Ratchet nearly fell over as Sunstreaker brushed by his guardian. Rolling to one knee, Sunstreaker stared intently at his brother before activating his own transformation sequence. And then there were two very large, very rambunctious dogs crashing together and rolling across the floor with loud barks and growls.

                Ratchet hurriedly stood and jumped out of the way as the rolling mass of metal impacted the wall where he had just been. “All right you two: be careful,” he warned, feeling the floor vibrate beneath his feet.

                The twins ignored him, taking turns at gaining the upper hand over the other and then losing it again almost immediately. Ratchet was pretty sure that they were just playing, but he watched carefully. The snarls and growls were incredibly real sounding, but besides a scuff or two, neither one appeared to be suffering from any injuries. Luckily, the common room had little in the way of furnishings, so property damage was also being kept to a minimum.

                “Are you two quite finished yet?” Ratchet asked as Sideswipe broke away suddenly, stilling with his head cocked to the side. Sunstreaker also paused, growls trickling to a stop and tail balancer quivering as he and his brother turned as one to stare at the door.

                Seconds later the door chime rang. Sideswipe let out a flurry of barks, practically bouncing as he ran over to the door. He looked from it and back to Ratchet and barked again as if to say ‘open it already!’

                Ratchet hurried over, shoving at broad red shoulders in order to reach the door lock. Sunstreaker followed them more sedately. When the door whooshed aside, they were greeted to the site of Hound’s worried faceplates and the barrel of his gun pointed at the ceiling.

                “Ratchet? Are you all right, I heard…oh. Well, hello, Sides…” Sideswipe immediately pushed forward, stepping on Ratchet’s nearest foot. The red mech snuffled at Hound’s feet and then nosed up his leg, sniffing loudly. At the sound of his name, Sideswipe broke away and barked at Hound, sitting on his haunches with his tail balancer brushing along the floor behind him.

                “I heard the barking and crashing and…” Hound trailed off, seemingly embarrassed.

                “No, no, I’m so sorry. Sideswipe’s finally healed enough for his transformation, and he got a little excited,” Ratchet explained, trying to drag Sideswipe back from the door. Sideswipe merely shook Ratchet off and nosed at Hound’s dangling hand, trying to nudge it on top of his head. Sunstreaker, who had been sitting calmly next to Ratchet, rushed forward and snapped at Sideswipe’s rump.

                Sideswipe somehow whirled around without bowling any of the bipedal mechs off their feet, and Ratchet watched helplessly as his two younglings went back to rolling around the apartment.

                “Wow,” Hound commented, craning his neck to watch the tumbling dogs.

                “Yeah,” Ratchet replied. “I’m really sorry. I hope they didn’t get you out of recharge.”

                Hound shook his head in amazement as Sunstreaker reared up and fell on Sideswipe’s back, teeth burrowing into Sideswipe’s neck joint. Sideswipe’s glossa lolled as he kicked out with his back feet, dislodging Sunstreaker.

                “No, I was just doing some reading. Are they going to be doing… that… for much longer?” Hound asked, tucking his gun away in subspace.

                Ratchet wiped a hand across his faceplates and shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m going to give it another five minutes before I wade in there to…”

                Abruptly, the two dogs broke apart from each other. Sideswipe strode over to the blanket and plopped down, intakes working overtime to cool his engine. Sunstreaker followed at a more leisurely pace and genteelly sat, ignoring Sideswipe’s sudden lick to Sunstreaker’s face.

                “…make them stop,” Ratchet said. “Are you two done?”

                **Done with what?** came Sideswipe’s cheeky reply. Ratchet gave both brothers a withering look before turning back to Hound.

                “I think we’re good.”

                Hound surveyed the apartment one last time before nodding with a bemused expression. “I don’t envy you one bit.”

                Ratchet chuckled weakly, waving good bye as Hound turned to head back downstairs. “Yeah, me either.”

                Ratchet shut and keyed in the lock for the door before turning around and doing a double take. Sideswipe was on his back, one of Sunstreaker’s paws placed quite squarely on Sideswipe’s chassis. Sunstreaker’s audio flaps were laid back, and Sideswipe’s paws kicked fitfully at Sunstreaker’s side.

                “Now what are you two doing?” Ratchet asked. Sunstreaker glanced up at Ratchet before stepping to the side and transforming back into root form. He brushed at his arms and chassis, glaring at Sideswipe.

                “I’m filthy,” he told his twin as Sideswipe leapt to his feet and transformed as well. Sideswipe’s optics were overly bright as he wound his arms around Sunstreaker’s waist.

                “Yeah, you are,” Sideswipe said, leering.

                Sunstreaker tried unsuccessfully to pry Sideswipe off. “Could I be an only child?” he asked Ratchet, finally giving up his cleaning efforts with a huff.

                “Little late for that,” Ratchet said, straightening the chair at his desk that had been knocked askew by the twins’ tumbles.

                “You love me,” Sideswipe said coyly.

                Sunstreaker looked down on the mech wound around him, and his shoulders slumped a little. “Yeah, I guess.”

                Sideswipe released Sunstreaker and threw both hands in the air triumphantly. “Ha ha! I win!”

                Sunstreaker growled and whirled around, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and beginning to propel him backwards. “Are you sure you want to?” he asked. He threw a glance over his shoulder at Ratchet.

                “We’re going to bed. Call us if you need us,” Sunstreaker informed their guardian.

                “Oh. Yes, ok. See you in the morning!” Ratchet called after them, remembering at the last moment the important topic he was supposed to have breached with them today. The only answer he got was a slam of their door. Well, there was still tomorrow to talk with them about Ironhide.

                Ratchet looked around the now empty common room and checked his chronometer. It was earlier than he had anticipated. Since the twins had retired for the night, it was probably time for him to get some work in. 

                There was a muffled thump from the direction of the twin’s room. Shaking his head, Ratchet retrieved a data pad from his stack atop his desk. He shut off his audios and made himself comfortable on the pile of blankets, hoping that the twins would be done with their… activities… by the time Ratchet sought his own berth. He hated recharging with his audio sensors offline.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter shall be known as the One In Which Everybody Gets Some (or at least most mechs; in my head, there's a full moon and Hound and Mirage, and Jazz and Prowl are all going at it. Bluestreak and Wheeljack are not because they just met; give them time ;) And yes, the sex scenes are repetitive for paralleling purposes.

                Sunstreaker stretched, feeling the tension in his neck cables release. He smirked at the blissed out expression on Sideswipe’s faceplates. Sliding his palms up Sideswipe’s thighs, he followed after his hands, purposely scraping his chassis over Sideswipe’s interface panel. Sideswipe shivered and reached blindly for Sunstreaker, weakly sliding a hand around the back of Sunstreaker’s neck to pull him into a messy kiss.

                “Mmmm, that was great, Sunny,” Sideswipe murmured, nuzzling Sunstreaker’s cheek.

                “I know,” Sunstreaker replied smugly. “Not a bad prize for winning, hmm?”

                Sideswipe hooked a leg over Sunstreaker’s hip and ground his pelvis up against Sunstreaker’s in a sensuous roll. Sunstreaker reflexively pressed down against Sideswipe, growling softly.

                “I guess this means you forgive me for earlier. You want to win for awhile?” Sideswipe asked, scraping his denta along the point of Sunstreaker’s chin.

                “What do you have in mind?” Sunstreaker asked. He hoped Sideswipe would say his mouth; Sunstreaker loved Sideswipe’s talented lipplates wrapped around Sunstreaker’s spike. Something about the normally loud sounds his brother made muffled against Sunstreaker’s plating really charged his circuits.

                “I want you in me,” Sideswipe whispered into Sunstreaker’s audio. Sunstreaker stilled for a moment before drawing backwards and staring down at Sideswipe, Sunstreaker’s spark lurching with excitement. Sideswipe’s mouth was amazing, but this…?

                “Yeah?”

                “Yeah,” Sideswipe confirmed, thrusting upwards again. Sunstreaker’s optic shutters fell together as the burning heat of Sideswipe’s valve painted a stripe of lubricant against Sunstreaker’s still closed panel. His spike bumped eagerly against its housing cover, and Sunstreaker shuddered, his hips automatically following Sideswipe’s on their downward motion.

                “What should I…” Sunstreaker asked, pulling back to kneel between Sideswipe’s thighs. Sunstreaker’s hands hovered uncertainly over Sideswipe’s lower abdomen. Sideswipe had joked about penetration before, but up until now, they had only played with each other’s spikes and valves. At first, they had been scared by Ratchet’s warning. Then they were just so excited to find out what felt good that they hadn’t really considered that last act of interfacing.

                Sunstreaker was excited that Sideswipe had suggested it, but also a little nervous. He wanted to make his brother feel good; Sideswipe’s whines and whimpers were incredibly addictive, and it was empowering to be the one who drew them forth.

                “I’m already so wet,” Sideswipe purred, reaching down to capture one of Sunstreaker’s hands to draw it to Sideswipe’s entrance. Sunstreaker lightly touched the valve, watching the edges quiver as his fingers quickly became coated with lubricant.

                “Stretch me first,” Sideswipe suggested. Nodding silently, Sunstreaker did as his brother asked, familiar with this at least. He slowly slid one finger into the clenching canal, hooking the digit around the rim to stroke the most superficial nodes.

                Sideswipe sighed, his optic shutters slipping to half mast. He spread his legs wider, and Sunstreaker rewarded him with another finger. He plunged both of them deep, enjoying the way the valve rippled and clutched at his fingers.

                Moaning softly, Sideswipe gently bounced his hips upwards. “More,” he demanded.

                “You always want more,” Sunstreaker said, in a fake grumble. A third finger slipped in along the first two, and Sideswipe gasped, his back arching.

                “More of _you_ ,” Sideswipe replied, a cooling fan whirring to life. “I’m good, come on,” Sideswipe said twisting and reaching for Sunstreaker’s wrists.

                “Maybe I should…” Sunstreaker said, trailing off. His spike was bigger than three fingers and even though Ratchet had said Sideswipe was completely healed, there was still a lingering fear that he could injure his brother.

                “Maybe you should get in me,” Sideswipe rumbled impatiently. He reached down to swirl his fingers in his own dripping lubricant and then sat up far enough to grasp and stroke Sunstreaker’s spike. Sunstreaker’s hips lurched forward of their own volition at the confident touch. His doubts now seemed much less important than they had a minute ago.

                “… tell me if I hurt you,” Sunstreaker said, removing his brother’s hand and falling forward. He supported himself on an elbow resting by Sideswipe’s shoulder while Sunstreaker’s other hand guided his spike to press against Sideswipe’s entrance.

                “You won’t,” Sideswipe promised, optics darkened with lust. “Come on, Sunny. I want you _in_ me,” he whined. He raised his knees and pressed them against Sunstreaker’s hips, trying to leverage his legs to tug Sunstreaker closer.

                “Stop that,” Sunstreaker said, vocalizer fritzing as his spike penetrated the first scorching inch of Sideswipe’s valve.

                “More. Come on, more,” Sideswipe whispered, surging upwards to wrap his arms around Sunstreaker’s shoulders. Sideswipe buried his faceplates in the bend of Sunstreaker’s neck, and he starting kissing and nipping at the exposed cables there. Arching into the sensations, Sunstreaker overbalanced. He had to brace himself on both hands, and his spike slid the rest of the way home in one smooth thrust.

                Dimly, Sunstreaker heard Sideswipe groan, Sunstreaker’s own moan echoing in his audios. Sideswipe’s valve was hot, molten even, and incredibly tight in its silken grasp around Sunstreaker’s spike. It occurred to Sunstreaker then that this was the closest that could get to one another besides merging spark to spark, and a little thrill went up his back struts.

                “ _Primus_ ,” Sideswipe gasped, intakes puffing out hot little gusts of air over Sunstreaker’s neck cables. Sunstreaker was frozen with overwhelming sensation; he wanted to look at Sideswipe’s faceplates and see the rapturous expression he knew was there. He wanted to bite at Sideswipe’s lips and lick at his neck. But he could only hold still and tremble, optics tightly shuttered.

                “Will you move?”

                Sunstreaker jerked as the words were accompanied by a sharp nip to one of his helm fins. He reflexively drew back, and the hungry clutch of Sideswipe’s valve as Sunstreaker withdrew was even more intoxicating then the initial thrust.

                “Are you ok?” Sunstreaker asked, finally able to scan Sideswipe’s faceplates. Sideswipe stared back at him, optics large and flickering, mouth open as he panted.

                “Good. I’m _so_ good. _You_ feel so good,” Sideswipe breathed out in a rush, tightening his knees against Sunstreaker’s sides. Sideswipe moaned, optic shutters fluttering as Sunstreaker slid forward again. “You?”

                Sunstreaker could only nod wordlessly, his body beginning to fall into a slow rhythm.

                “You’re closed off. Why…” Sideswipe asked, gasping when Sunstreaker experimentally swiveled his hips. Sunstreaker let the barrier he had up on his side of the bond fall a little and then hurriedly snapped it back up despite Sideswipe’s unhappy whine.

                “It’s too much,” Sunstreaker replied, shaking his head. He was already close to overload; Sideswipe’s sensations on top of his own would push him over the edge too quickly. Sunstreaker wanted to make this last as long as possible.

                “Next time,” Sideswipe said, his hips surging up to meet Sunstreaker’s on their next downward roll.

                “Fine,” Sunstreaker muttered, already losing himself again to the pleasure.

                It didn’t take long for his rhythm to begin speeding up, their pelvic plating meeting together in loud scrapes of metal. Sideswipe began getting more and more vocal as well. Words that Sunstreaker hadn’t realized Sideswipe knew came pouring out of Sideswipe’s lipplates: dirty and filthy and oh so encouraging. He was squirming beneath Sunstreaker, running hands along Sunstreaker’s sides and transformation seams to pluck at overly sensitive wires and cables, ramping Sunstreaker’s charge higher and higher.

                “Harder, harder,” Sideswipe cried out, his helm thrashing side to side. “Oh, frag. Yes, yes, there, right there! Primus, your spike feels so good!” he cried as Sunstreaker’s thrusts became almost brutal in their intensity.

                “Do you ever shut up?” Sunstreaker asked, his helm thunking forward on to Sideswipe’s shoulder as the pressure began to tighten around Sunstreaker’s hips. “Hope Ratchet’s audios are off,” he muttered with a low groan.

                “Sunny, Sunny!” Sideswipe chanted, frantically battering at Sunstreaker’s block on the bond. “Let me in, please, Sunny, let me…”

                Hearing the desperation in Sideswipe’s voice, Sunstreaker caved and let the block fall. He reeled with the doubling of sensation: the fullness and burn of Sideswipe’s valve mingled with the tight heat around Sunstreaker’s spike. Sideswipe wailed at the additional information, his back arching almost impossible high. Overload burst over him like an explosion. Sunstreaker was unable to separate himself from his brother and fell with him, shuddering and crying out into the side of Sideswipe’s neck.

                Overload seemed to last forever as the sensations bounced back and forth between the two of them. Sunstreaker clutched his brother close, nearly drowning in roiling pleasure and their spark deep love for one another. Sunstreaker wasn’t certain which one of their processors came up with it first, but he gave a full body shiver at the thought that next time… next time they would do it while spark merging.

\--

                Sighing, Ratchet flipped the data pad switch, and the screen faded to black. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling some of the tension cables there wound overtight from the position in which he had been reading. Checking his chronometer, Ratchet realized that he had accomplished quite a bit of studying. He felt confident that he would be able to make good marks on the exam tomorrow.

                Feeling pretty pleased with himself, he tucked his data pad away and pushed himself to his feet. He was halfway to his room when he realized everything was silent. Then he remembered his audio sensors and chuckling to himself, he flipped them back on.

                Considering the late hour, Ratchet was expecting quiet, perhaps distant voices from the other tenants or noises from the street outside. _Not_ Sideswipe keening out his pleasure a few feet away from him. Ratchet froze, his head coming up as his optics widened in a stare at the Twins’ door. A chill, followed by a wash of heat, flowed up his frame and centered under his pelvic plating. Already antsy from Ironhide following him around all day, Ratchet’s valve calipers clenched down in a tight circle of _want_. Hearing the cries and sounds of two frames moving together, he was helpless against his processor as it ran rampant with suggestive images of the twins interfacing. When Ratchet’s processor prompted him with the picture of himself writhing beneath their heavy frames, he ran.

                Ratchet practically flew across the common room, fumbled with the lock until the door slid to the side and leaped across the hallway to pound on the door there.

                He didn’t know how long he knocked. Perhaps seconds, perhaps minutes. When the door opened an unknown amount of time later, Ratchet reached out both arms and pulled himself flush against Ironhide’s broad chest. Ratchet had to tip himself forward to get enough height to meet Ironhide’s lips and when he reached them, he attacked them with his own, nipping and licking.

                Ironhide rocked back a step, his hands automatically going to Ratchet’s waist. After a moment, he pushed Ratchet away despite his snarl of protest. Ratchet took the opportunity to shut the open door behind him, and when he turned, the large Enforcer was staring at Ratchet with a confused look.

                “What are you doing?”

                Ratchet prowled forward, Ironhide taking a hesitant step back with every one that Ratchet took forward.

                “I need a spike. In my valve. Right now,” Ratchet stated with careful enunciation. “I got the impression that you were offering such a service earlier. Was I mistaken?”

                Ironhide cleared his intake, his hands up in a placating manner. “No, no, not mistaken. That’s definitely what I was offerin’. What made you take me up on it? Did something happen?”

                Only a raging desire to ravage the younglings he had just adopted, Ratchet wanted to shout. Instead he shrugged with coyly lowered upper optic shutters. “I just have a need. Now,” he said, finally backing Ironhide against the far wall of his apartment. “Are you up for it? Or do I have to find someone else? Because I could go…”

                Ironhide’s hands settled back onto Ratchet’s waist, and his chassis rumbled beneath Ratchet’s palms. “No. No, I’m up for it. Here, let me show you.”

                He pushed, propelling Ratchet backwards and directing him until the back of Ratchet’s thighs hit a soft surface. Ratchet fell backwards onto a wide couch, his legs automatically spreading as Ironhide nestled between them. Ironhide’s interface panel was already retracted, his spike nearly fully pressurized with his eagerness. He ground their pelvises together, Ratchet arching up against the heat of Ironhide’s spike.

                Seconds later, Ratchet’s valve cover retracted, and Ironhide shuddered as his spike slipped through the lubricant which overflowed the valve’s edges.

                “Look at you,” Ironhide rumbled. “So wet. You sure?”

                “Yes!” Ratchet hissed, squirming beneath Ironhide’s larger mass. “Just get in me al…ah!”

                Ironhide’s spike slid home without any preamble, Ratchet’s valve clamping down tightly on the intruder. He froze, lipparts parted in a silent cry.

                “Primus, you’re tight,” Ironhide muttered, his head hanging low enough for his forehelm to brush against Ratchet’s. “I ain’t hurting you, am I?”

                “It’s been a while,” Ratchet choked out. “Just… just go slow at first.”

                “I can do that,” Ironhide said, inching out almost torturously slowly. Ratchet forced himself to relax on Ironhide’s next push, and instead of a burning stretch, the ache began fading to something much more pleasurable. Ironhide continued with his slow pace until the tension cables in Ratchet’s lower back released, and his hips starting twitching into each one of Ironhide’s thrusts.

                “Good?” Ironhide murmured in Ratchet’s audio.

                Ratchet nodded wordlessly and wound his legs around Ironhide’s waist, perversely enjoying the wanton spread of his thighs around Ironhide’s large frame. “Frag me hard, ok?”

                “My pleasure,” Ironhide growled, and proceeded to do just that.

                Ratchet was not as loud as Sideswipe had been.  Primus, Ratchet didn’t think _anyone_ could be as loud as Sideswipe. Nevertheless, Ratchet was soon moaning encouragements into Ironhide’s nearest audio, and when Ratchet overloaded, he did it with a ringing shout. Ironhide followed not long after. He wedged himself between Ratchet’s side and the couch back, his cooling fans whirring loudly from his efforts. Ratchet lay limply beside Ironhide, idly thinking that one of the fans needed looking at the way it spun with such a shrill sound.

                “You should get your fan system looked at; the one here,” he reached over and tapped the upper left quadrant of Ironhide’s chassis, “isn’t spinning properly.”

                Ironhide raised himself up on one elbow, Ratchet subtly shifting closer to the edge of the couch. How did Ironhide manage to put off so much more heat than the twins put together?

                “Well. Not the most romantic thing a mech’s ever said after ‘facing. But I guess it means you care,” Ironhide said, quirking the corner of his lipplates.

                The charge was still pleasantly tingling in his circuits. That was the only reason Ratchet could think of for blurting out the first thing on his processor. Ratchet bit his lip in embarrassment.

                “Sorry.”

                “No, no. Means I did my job if I have you spoutin' ridiculous things afterwards,” Ironhide said, sliding a hand over Ratchet’s hip. Ratchet unconsciously shuddered and abruptly sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch.

                “I guess so. Look. I’m sorry for barging in. I wasn’t… I don’t normally…” Ratchet said, trying to find words for the insanity that had overtaken him earlier. Now that he was coming down from the post overload high, he was feeling mortified.

                “Hey, don’t worry about it. I like that you came to me,” Ironhide said. “You wanna to go again? I have the day off tomorrow,” Ironhide offered, leaning around Ratchet and propping himself up on his elbow. “Could spend the whole night ‘facing if you want.”

                Ratchet’s optics swept over the expense of Ironhide’s laid out form. He smiled thinly, conflicted with interest and the overwhelming urge to get out of there. “Tempting. But I have a midterm exam tomorrow. I’ll show myself out.”

                He got to his feet, wincing a little at the ache in his valve. Ironhide followed, hovering annoyingly close.

                “You ok? You sure I didn’t hurt you?” Ironhide said, worry now etching his faceplates.

                Ratchet paused by the door, looking over his shoulder. “You did exactly as I asked you to. Thank you.” He gripped Ironhide’s tentatively outstretched arm and squeezed it. “Have a good night.”

                “Ok, but…”

                Ratchet didn’t hear the rest. He slid the door closed behind him and then leaned his back against it. He stared down at the floor beneath his feet, his emotional algorithms a mess. Finally, he shook his head and walked to the washracks. Maybe tomorrow it would be better. Couldn’t get worse, could it?

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet talks to the twins about Ironhide; Prowl becomes the bearer of good(?) news

                Sideswipe woke from recharge and stared at the ceiling for a while before turning to look at his brother. Sunstreaker was sprawled on his belly, taking up the majority of the berth surface. Sideswipe could see traces of lubricant on the side of Sunstreaker’s closest thigh. Sideswipe looked down at himself and saw both lubricant and transfluid, smeared liberally across his pelvis and lower abdomen. Stretching his arms above his head, Sideswipe grinned smugly. A good night’s work, if he said so himself.

                Checking his chronometer, Sideswipe realized that they needed to get up soon. Ratchet would be coming out of recharge in the next few minutes, and both he and Sunstreaker liked to spend as much time with their guardian as possible before Ratchet left for his long day. And Sideswipe had _plans_ for the day. They had missed training with Ironhide yesterday due to the prank on Smokey and playing catch up with lessons. Now that Ratchet had given him the go ahead for normal activity, Sideswipe couldn’t wait to train. Despite having never enjoyed the ring fights, Sideswipe did take pleasure in pushing his own physical limits.

                Sideswipe curled close to Sunstreaker, nuzzling at his brother’s cheek.

                “Sunny,” Sideswipe breathed. “Wakey, wakey, Sunshine.”

                Sunstreaker stirred, burying his faceplates further into the berth bedding. “Don’t call me that,” he grumbled.

                “But it’s true. You’re my little ray of sunshine,” Sideswipe purred, sliding his arm around Sunstreaker’s waist and pressing against the yellow plating. Sunstreaker sighed and turned his head, one optic shining through half mast shutters.

                “You’re a pain in my aft,” Sunstreaker replied.

                “One does one’s best,” Sideswipe said, grinning. He pushed himself upright and smacked Sunstreaker’s aft as he slid across his brother’s frame to the floor.

                “Come on, lazy aft. The day’s a-wasting.”

                “Why are you in such a hurry?” Sunstreaker said, groaning as he pushed himself to his side and then swung his feet over the edge of the berth.

                “Ratchet’ll be up soon. Then lessons; we can repaint Smokey at the same time. And sparring with ‘Hide in the afternoon,” Sideswipe said, ticking each item off one by one on his fingers.

                “Don’t be in such a rush,” Sunstreaker said, standing and looking around blearily. “That mech hits _hard_.”

                “Yeah, yeah,” Sideswipe said, cheerfully waving a hand through the air. “We’ll see. Come on, I want to get washed up. Dried transfluid itches,” he said, scratching at a dried patch on his lower belly.

                Sunstreaker paused and cocked his head to the side, studying Sideswipe. “You’re a mess,” he rumbled, his voice dark and low. His optics began lighting up with interest.

                As interested back as he was, Sideswipe knew he would have to put a stop to _that_ line of code. “So are you,” he said, pointing.

                Looking down at himself, Sunstreaker made an irritated noise in the back of his vocalizer. “True. All right. Washracks it is.”

                They moved out into the hallway and Sideswipe observed that Ratchet’s door was still closed. Sideswipe suppressed the desire to race into their guardian’s room and followed Sunstreaker out through the apartment. Once he reached the floor’s landing, he pushed past Sunstreaker and made a dash for the washracks, giggling at Sunstreaker’s annoyed growl.

                Sideswipe pressed Sunstreaker to keep the shower short, and they arrived back into the apartment a few minutes later. There was still no sign of Ratchet, so Sideswipe opened his door and peeked in.

                Their guardian was sitting on his makeshift bed, inputting something into a data pad. He looked up when he heard the door open. Ratchet smiled warmly when he saw Sideswipe and gestured him forward. Sideswipe eagerly moved to the bed and climbed atop it, wrapping an arm around Ratchet’s waist and pressing his cheek against Ratchet’s shoulder. Sideswipe sighed, relaxing against Ratchet’s warm frame.

                “Missed you,” Sideswipe murmured.

                Sideswipe felt more than heard Ratchet’s chuckle. “It’s only been a few hours. Did you have a bad night?”

                “Mmm, no,” Sideswipe replied, grinning. “A really good one. What about yours? We didn’t keep you up, did we?” Sideswipe asked, raising his head in worry after feeling Ratchet briefly stiffen.

                Ratchet shook his head and looked over at Sunstreaker as he entered the room. “I heard you,” Ratchet admitted. “Then I turned my audios back off. I think we need soundproofing,” he said, frowning.

                “Or Sideswipe needs a gag,” Sunstreaker commented, crossing his arms over his chassis.

                Sideswipe cocked his head to the side as images popped up in his processor. He opened his mouth to say something but snapped it closed when he saw Sunstreaker subtly shake his head.

                “Or that,” Ratchet said. “Hey, I need to talk to you both about something.”

                Sideswipe sat up in alarm at the solemnity of Ratchet’s voice. “What is it? Is it something we did?”

                “No. Nothing you did,” Ratchet said firmly, shaking his head. “More like something that I did.”

                “You?” Sunstreaker asked, curiosity obvious in his expression.

                “Yes, I…” Ratchet took in a large intake of air before letting it out and continuing. “What do you think about Ironhide?”

                Sideswipe squashed down his own flare of alarm and Sunstreaker’s panic along the bond before replying. “What do you mean? We haven’t had that much interaction with him,” he said carefully. He avoided looking at his brother, silently willing Sunstreaker to relax.

                “Yes, good point. Well, I’ve been seeing him more, especially with the daily escort and working at the Precinct. We’ve been getting along quite well. We’ve been talking and…”

                Ratchet broke off as the door chime rang through the apartment.

                Sideswipe snatched the opportunity and leapt up from Ratchet’s side. “Someone’s at the door; I’d better get it!” he said, already passing his brother.

                “It can wait a minute. Sideswipe. Sideswipe, wait,” Ratchet called after Sideswipe. Sideswipe ignored his guardian, spark fluttering. Had Ratchet found out about the sparring? He had taken the prank so well, but had seemed so vehemently against Ironhide recruiting them that Sideswipe didn’t know how he would take their recent practice.

                Sideswipe reached the door and after unlocking it, yanked it aside. “Yes?”

                Prowl regarded him through a narrowed gaze, obviously taking in Sideswipe’s wide optics and desperate expression. The Enforcer wisely chose not to comment, however, and instead attempted to look around Sideswipe’s shoulder.

                “I would like to speak with Ratchet, please. Although since it concerns you and your brother, I would not be averse to having you both present as well. Ah, good morning, Ratchet,” Prowl said, catching sight of Ratchet as he approached behind Sideswipe.

                “Morning, Prowl,” Ratchet said as Sideswipe stepped back to allow Prowl to enter. Ratchet shot Sideswipe a calculating look which Sideswipe interpreted as a ‘you’re not getting out of this talk so easily’ expression.

                _He found out!_ Sunstreaker finally blurted over the bond. Sideswipe glanced at his brother to see Sunstreaker hovering in the doorway to the hall, a distressed expression on his faceplates.

                _We don’t know that for sure._

 _You promised,_ Sunstreaker said, glaringg at Sideswipe.

                Sideswipe gave Sunstreaker an exasperated look before plopping down on the floor as Ratchet and Prowl took the chairs. _I know. Calm down already._

Sunstreaker remained in the doorway alternately glaring at Sideswipe and gazing at Ratchet with a forlorn expression.

“Top Notchs’s court date has been set for next week,” Prowl announced, drawing the Twins’ attention away from their dilemma. Sunstreaker snarled wordlessly, his frame tensing at the hated name. Sideswipe merely frowned and sent a calming pulse to his brother.

                “So soon?” Ratchet asked, leaning back in his chair.

                “He has friends in high places,” Prowl said, a hint of disapproval in his tone. “I have informed you of this, because all three of you will likely be called to testify. As such, the attorney would like to coach you on what questions might be asked and how best to answer them.”

                “Coach us?” Ratchet asked, looking confused.

                Prowl nodded. “The opposing side will often ask questions to rile mechs up or confuse them so that their testimony is suspect to the jury. The prosecution will attempt to prepare you for that.”

                “When do we start?” Sideswipe asked. He and Sunstreaker had dove so eagerly into Ratchet’s life, they had almost forgotten about TopNotch. Now they were getting a reminder that he was still out there. Both of them were ready and willing to do anything to put that part of their lives behind them.             

                Sideswipe focused again, hearing Prowl say that the lawyer would stop by later in the day while Smokescreen was present and would visit Ratchet tomorrow at the precinct.

                “After we testify, that will be the end of everything, right?” Ratchet asked, drawing Sideswipe’s attention with the near desperation to the medic’s tone. Sunstreaker automatically stepped forward, guarding Ratchet’s back.

                Prowl’s optics gazed impassively into Ratchet’s, but Sideswipe caught the tiny flick of the Enforcer’s doorwings. “Perhaps.”

                “Perhaps?” Ratchet’s optic ridges drew down with consternation. “What does that mean?”

                Prowl vented a small sigh, his gaze briefly traveling between each twin. “It means that TopNotch has the means to sway jury members even while held in prison. The charges against him are relatively minor in comparison…

                “Minor!?” Ratchet burst out. “He basically enslaved Sideswipe and Sunstreaker! He would have killed Red, knowing full well he was euthanizing a sentient being.”

                “That has to be proved in court,” Prowl said firmly.

                Ratchet fell back against his chair, mouthplates gaping and optics wide. “But you…”

                “What I or any of my colleagues believe is irrelevant. A court must work with evidence.”

                “There’s plenty of evidence!” Ratchet exclaimed. Sideswipe shifted uneasily, not liking how this conversation was going. It was almost as if Prowl was subtly telling them that the case would fall through.

                “Ratchet,” Prowl said sternly, catching the medic up short. “This is why you will have coaching. You _must_ keep a level head during the proceedings, no matter what happens.”

                “Not if that slag sucking piece of scrap metal ends up going free!” Ratchet protested hotly.

                Unable to sit back any longer, Sideswipe got to his feet and walked over to stand next to Ratchet’s side, one of Sideswipe’s hands falling to his guardian’s shoulder.

                “Don’t worry,” Sideswipe said soothingly. “It’ll work out.”

                “But what if he goes free? What if he twists things somehow and comes back for you…” Ratchet asked, fidgeting with worry.

                “We’ll worry about it if that happens,” Sideswipe said, shooting a significant look above Ratchet’s head to Sunstreaker. “Besides… we know a mech who we’ve heard is an awesome sharpshooter.”

                If it were possible, Prowl sat up even straighter and glared at Sideswipe. “You are joking,” Prowl stated, optics burning.

                Sideswipe shrugged, knowing his grin was dark. “Yeah, of course. Probably.”

                Before Prowl could say anything else, Ratchet reached up and squeezed Sideswipe’s hand. “Enough,” Ratchet murmured. “He’s trying to help us; don’t antagonize him.”

                Sideswipe shrugged again, his optics steadily meeting Prowl’s before looking away. In Sideswipe’s opinion, the uptight Enforcer deserved a little needling about his beloved cousin if he was going to purposely rile Ratchet up.

                “Do you have any questions?” Prowl asked, giving Sideswipe one last glare.

                Ratchet fidgeted beneath the twins’ hands before shaking his helm ‘no’. “No, I guess not. Maybe I will after we speak with this lawyer.”

                “Good,” Prowl said, standing. “Then we can leave.”

                Ratchet raised an orbital ridge as Prowl stood over him, staring at the vet expectedly. “Leave?”

                “Yes. I will be escorting you this morning. We need to leave within the next three minutes to have a 92% chance of making it to the Academy on time.”

                “92% chance,” Ratchet repeated, his voice skeptical. He turned to look over his shoulder at Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. “Well, you heard the mech. Guess I need to get on the move.”

                Sideswipe couldn’t help the slump in his shoulders. He hadn’t wanted to talk about Ironhide, but neither did he want Ratchet to leave so quickly. They had barely had a chance to interact at all this morning!

                “Don’t think we won’t be picking up our conversation later,” Ratchet said, standing and echoing Sideswipe’s thoughts. Ratchet tugged Sunstreaker close and kissed him on the forehelm before turning towards Sideswipe.

                “Okay,” Sideswipe said, accepting Ratchet’s kiss to the cheek. He impulsively leaned forward and threw his arms around Ratchet’s shoulders, his olfactory sensors reveling in the now familiar scent of Ratchet’s frame. “Have a good day.”

                “I will. I want you two to stay out of trouble today,” Ratchet said, before trying to pull away. Sideswipe hung on, his processor suddenly in a whirl over the impending conversation about Ironhide and TopNotch’s upcoming trial.

                Ratchet stilled and then hugged Sideswipe tighter. His hand soothingly stroked down the back of Sideswipe’s neck. “All right, Red.  It will be ok,” Ratchet said softly.

                “Do you have to go?” Sideswipe asked, vocalizer hitching. He wanted to smack himself over acting like such a sparkling, but he couldn’t help it. He knew it was irrational, but Sideswipe had the urge to grab their guardian and hide in the bedroom all day, keeping him to themselves.

                “I have to go,” Ratchet answered, arms giving Sideswipe a final squeeze. When Ratchet began to pull away this time, Sideswipe reluctantly let him, almost immediately pressing up against Sunstreaker’s side.

                Ratchet looked at them both, frowning. He cleared his intakes and then nodded. “Get some energon. Smokey will be by shortly, and I expect to hear glowing reviews about your progress. And his paintjob.”

                “Will do,” Sideswipe said, returning Ratchet’s nod. He was proud to hear his voice was strong and steady.

                “Comm me if you need anything,” Ratchet said, walking backwards slowly across the room. Prowl waited at the door, optics politely averted. The Enforcer had done so much for them, but Sideswipe hated him with his entire spark at that moment. It felt like Prowl was taking Ratchet away, and Sideswipe had to fight not to leap across the room and pull Ratchet into the twins’ embrace.

                “We’ll be fine. See you later tonight!” Sideswipe said, pasting a cheerful smile on his faceplates. He gave a little wave as Ratchet opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

                “Love you both,” Ratchet said, as the door closed and blocked out the sight of his concerned optics.

                “Love you too,” Sunstreaker said softly and slid an arm around Sideswipe’s middle. “What’s wrong?”

                Sideswipe shook his head, unable to voice his worries. Instead he turned and snuggled up against his twin. “Nothing. I’m just worrying over nothing.”

                Sunstreaker was silent for a moment before carefully speaking. “ _You_ don’t worry over nothing, Sides. What is it? The hearing?”

                Sideswipe shrugged. “Really, nothing. My tanks are running on fumes after you wore me out last night. I think I just need some energon,” he said, grinning at his brother. Sideswipe didn’t have the spark to pour out all his irrational fears; Sunstreaker worried enough about things as it was. Sunstreaker didn’t look all that convinced, but eventually he nodded.

                “Well, let’s go get breakfast then.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet discusses the upcoming trial and the twins with Wheeljack. Sideswipe works out some things. Optimus has a brief cameo

                “This seems like a good thing,” Wheeljack announced.

                Ratchet and his best friend were sitting in the common area of Wheeljack’s building, each of them nursing a cube of energon. The vet had finally been able to drag Wheeljack away from his current project to get some midday nourishment. It hadn’t taken long for the news about the trial to come up in conversation. 

                Ratchet paused with his cube halfway to his mouth and arched an orbital ridge. “You think?”

                “Sure! I know how worried you’ve been about TopNotch. With him out of the way, you’ll be able to concentrate on raising those younglings without anything hanging over your head.”

                “I don’t know. Prowl insinuated that there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him,” Ratchet said unhappily.

                Wheeljack shrugged. “I can’t see how that would be true. There’s the chip, the twins’ testimony and your medical records. Seems pretty solid to me.”

                “Prowl’s had a lot of experience…”

                “Prowl’s a perfectionist,” Wheeljack said, waving his hand through the hair as if to brush aside Ratchet’s words. “He lives by numbers and percentages. There’s more to a situation than just a number.”

                “Like luck?” Ratchet asked wryly, remembering a conversation they had had just the other day regarding Wheeljack’s health and explosions.

                Wheeljack grinned, obviously knowing to what Ratchet was referring. “Exactly. Like luck.”

                “I just want it to be over,” Ratchet grumbled, his smile fading from his faceplates. He stared into the depths of his energon cube before tossing back the rest of its contents. “I berthed Ironhide last night,” he muttered.

                Wheeljack jolted, spitting out the mouthful of energon he had been about to swallow. Droplets sliding down his chin, he turned and stared incredulously at Ratchet. “You what?! You did?!”

                Squirming a little, Ratchet nodded, watching Wheeljack’s expression carefully. He shouldn’t have worried. Wheeljack faceplates broke out in a huge grin, and he reached over to pat Ratchet on the shoulder.

                “Way to go, Ratch! I knew you had it in you! What made you change your mind?”

                Ratchet ducked his head, shame coloring his faceplates.

                “Ratch?” Wheeljack questioned, immediately noticing his friend’s hesitancy.

                “’Jack… do you think Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are good looking?” Ratchet asked, staring down at the floor.

                “Well…” Ratchet looked up to see Wheeljack cock his head to the side, obviously puzzled by the question. “…I suppose so. Yes, they’re quite handsome. All the other creators must be jealous,” Wheeljack said, smiling a little.

                Ratchet looked around the common room. Even after finding it empty, he scooted a little closer to the science student. Wheeljack’s optics widened in alarm even as he leaned in to listen to Ratchet’s low voice.

                “I… I find myself…” Ratchet shook his head, blowing out a puff of air. “I don’t always see them as younglings, ‘Jack.”

                Ratchet raised tortured optics to Wheeljack’s own. “They’re beautiful and special and sometimes I… I _want_ them.”

                Wheeljack reared back in surprise. “Want them… want them, like…?”

                Ratchet nodded miserably. “Last night I heard them interfacing; I was so tempted to walk in, but I went to Ironhide instead. I’m a terrible mech,” he moaned, burying his faceplates into his hands. “I adopted them to give them a better life, and now they’re stuck with me – a horrible, perverted…”

                “Ratchet!” Wheeljack said sharply, halting Ratchet’s tirade. The medic looked up at his friend, expecting disgust but saw only wry amusement.

                “Ratchet, I know you. You have a lot of faults but youngling molestation is not one of them.”

                “But…”

                “But nothing! You get the urge to frag them when they come to you upset and hurting?”

                “No, of course not!” Ratchet replied, shocked at the suggestion.

                “Then when do you?”

                Ratchet opened his lip components to snap a retort, but then paused as he really thought about the question.

                “I bet it’s when you hear _them_ interfacing. Or when they get all looming and protective over you. Isn’t it?”

                Nodding slowly, Ratchet recalled how aroused he had felt last night while listening to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe go at it.

                “See? You’re responding to them when they’re exhibiting adult-like behavior. Not when they’re acting more like sparklings.”

                Ratchet threw up his hands in exasperation. “Ok, fine! So I’m not a youngling molester. But what am I going to do as they get older and act more and more like adults?”

                Wheeljack sat back and gazed at Ratchet in speculation. “I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “Wait until they’re legal and think about that again.”

                “’Jack, be serious…”

                “No, no, I _am_ serious! You never know. You’re not _that_ much older than them.”

                “It’s wrong,” Ratchet said firmly, shaking his head in denial.

                Wheeljack shrugged. “You never know. So anyway… Ironhide. What was that like?” Wheeljack leaned back in, squirming excitedly in his chair.

                Ratchet shook his head at his friend. “It was fine.”

                “Fine?! That hulking specimen had to have been more than ‘fine’. Come on, don’t get stingy with the details! Are you going to do it again?”

                Ratchet frowned. “I’m not sure. I basically just used him to take my mind off the twins.”

                “Well… as long as he knows it’s nothing serious, I can’t see why he would have a problem with it. He should be lucky to get himself a piece of the Hatchet,” Wheeljack said grinning. Ratchet shoved at Wheeljack’s shoulder, glaring.

                “You know I hate that nickname,” he said, referring to the hated moniker that his graduating classmates had given him. He at first thought it had been a slur against his surgical skills; when he had found out it was in regards to his temper, he hadn’t been any more pleased.

                Wheeljack laughed and shoved Ratchet back. “Eh, it suits you. So? Seriously! Details, mech, details!”

\---

                “Back in rotation, huh?”

                Ironhide stood in the middle of the training room floor with his arms crossed over his chassis. His optics followed the motion of Sideswipe stepping forward, but he otherwise didn’t seem concerned. Sunstreaker’s inner dog snarled, miffed that Ironhide obviously saw them as no threat.

                Sunstreaker watched his brother bounce on the tips of his feet, arms swinging from side to side. Sideswipe had been… off… since Ratchet had left this morning. Oh, Sideswipe had smiled and played nice when First Tier, the lawyer, had stopped by. He had even laughed and joked with Smokescreen throughout their lessons. But he had brushed up against Sunstreaker more often than usual, and his side of their bond had been quiet, a good indication that Sideswipe was keeping himself locked down.

                He did that at times. Sunstreaker was the more temperamental twin, more prone to depression and anger. Sideswipe was generally upbeat with a tail wag or smile at the ready. But on the rare occasion, Sideswipe would withdraw from Sunstreaker and keep his side of the bond still and silent. It was never for very long; long enough for Sideswipe to sort through whatever was bothering him at the time, Sunstreaker supposed. And after, Sideswipe would bounce back like nothing had ever happened, the link between them open and welcoming once more.

                It always made Sunstreaker uneasy, and today was no exception. His optics studied the line of Sideswipe’s back, wishing he had pushed earlier to get his brother to open up. Sometimes Sideswipe did, sharing his thoughts and fears. But more often than not, Sideswipe worked it out for himself. Considering how eager he was to come down and spar with Ironhide, Sunstreaker suspected that a little physical activity would help him with the thoughts plaguing Sideswipe’s processor.

                “Ratchet cleared me just last night,” Sideswipe confirmed. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, gesturing to himself. Sunstreaker snorted at the boastful tone and sat down on one of the benches lining the wall. 

                _Careful,_ Sunstreaker warned.

                _I’m always careful,_ Sideswipe replied, glancing over his shoulder. Sideswipe grinned darkly, winking.  Sunstreaker huffed, his unease growing at the paleness to Sideswipe’s optics. Shifting on the bench, Sunstreaker wondered if they would have to call Ratchet back home to treat his stupid brother’s injuries obtained from overreaching himself.

                “I’m ready. Are you?” Ironhide asked with a mocking grin and raised orbital ridge.

                “Let’s see,” Sideswipe said and dove forward.

                Sunstreaker groaned as Sideswipe made an obvious rush at Ironhide’s waist, seemingly intent on shoving the Enforcer off his feet. Ironhide also seemed disappointed, his arms falling to his sides with an almost bored look to his faceplates.

                The bored look turned surprised as Sideswipe abruptly twisted, throwing himself backwards so quickly that he ended up on the floor. Even after taking only four steps, he had built up enough momentum to continue shooting forward, sliding along the floor. Ironhide instinctively moved to the side, but Sideswipe anticipated the movement. As Ironhide’s far foot raised up to shift over, Sideswipe twisted again and kicked out against Ironhide’s stable leg.

                Ironhide teetered, arms out flung. Sideswipe shot upwards and took advantage of the Enforcer’s unbalance by throwing his shoulder into Ironhide’s abdomen. Ironhide toppled over backwards, Sideswipe climbing up the large mech’s frame as Ironhide fell.

                Sunstreaker shot to his feet as Ironhide’s back met the floor with a clang, the whole thing over in less than four seconds. He hurried to the side so that he could see Ironhide’s expression and abruptly stilled when he caught a glimpse of the glowing energon knife Sideswipe held at Ironhide’s throat.

                Ironhide was staring up at Sideswipe with a wary stare, arms carefully outstretched and limp. Sideswipe was crouched atop Ironhide’s chassis, lipplates curled back in a snarl which looked eerily out of place on Sideswipe’s mech form.

                “No weapons,” Ironhide said, his gaze never leaving Sideswipe’s.

                “I don’t remember you saying that,” Sideswipe said, voice light and at odds with his fierce expression.

                Ironhide paused before speaking again. “I didn’t. But I am now. A knife or a gun is easy; you won’t always have them available. Now get up and try it again. Without the knife,” he instructed. Sunstreaker had to hand it to the Enforcer; the mech never once appeared afraid or unsteady. Sunstreaker, on the other hand, was keeping a careful optic on his brother.

                Sideswipe stared down at Ironhide for a moment before bouncing up and flipping the knife into the air. On its descent, Sideswipe snatched it out of the air into subspace. He smiled and raised his hands out the side, palms upwards.

                “We’re not just dogs,” he said, his tone still light, and his frame loose.

                Ironhide got to his feet, brushing at his plating. “I know. Now, do it again,” he commanded. This time, he braced himself as he stared Sideswipe down. Sideswipe’s grinned widened.

                “Yes, boss,” he replied, running forward with a whoop.

\--

                _What the Pit was that about?_ Sunstreaker asked. 

                Ironhide had just left, departing up the stairs with a farewell nod. As soon as his steps stopped echoing, Sideswipe had dropped onto the nearest bench, intakes panting.

                Sunstreaker had let his brother have a go at Ironhide until the Enforcer ended things, citing he had to clean up for his shift. Sunstreaker had watched the two of them, content to observe this time. Sideswipe didn’t have any more victories after the first; in fact, he barely landed any hits and got tossed to the ground just as much as Sunstreaker had. But he had bounced right back up with bright, eager optics and kept meeting Ironhide in the middle of the floor.

                “He’s not gonna underestimate us ever again, will he?” Sideswipe said, shivering a little as the fight coding began petering out.

                Sideswipe continued. “We’re not just dumb dogs. We have rights too, and no one, not _anyone_ , is ever gonna take Ratchet from us,” he said, finishing up with a fierceness to his tone that took Sunstreaker back a little.

                Sunstreaker stared down at his brother until Sideswipe looked up, fatigue clear in the set of his shoulders. A smile spread across Sideswipe’s faceplates and suddenly, Sunstreaker’s twin was back, bond open and clear.

                “Did you see him hit the floor?” Sideswipe asked excitedly. “I thought for sure he wasn’t gonna topple over; you were right, he’s _strong_.”

                “Where did you get the knife?” Sunstreaker asked finally, taking out a cloth from subspace and beginning to scrub at the scuffs on Sideswipe’s shoulders.

                “Nicked it earlier,” Sideswipe said, nodding over at the weapons wall with his chin.

                “Sides…” Sunstreaker began uncertainly.

                Sideswipe reached out to encircle Sunstreaker’s wrist, stopping the cloth’s motions. “I wasn’t going to use it,” Sideswipe said softly.

                “I know, but... was this about this morning? About the hearing?”

                Sideswipe’s optics flashed before settling back into their normal blue. He shrugged. “Maybe. Ratchet’s all worried, you know, ‘bout ‘Notch and someone taking us away. But we’re not going away; no matter what happens, Ratchet’s ours. And if TopNotch comes after Ratchet or send someone after him… we’ll rip him apart.”

                Before Sunstreaker could reply, Sideswipe continued.

                “And maybe Ratchet will be mad about this,” he said, waving a hand to encompass their training session with Ironhide, “but he loves us, and he’s not going to throw us away,” Sideswipe said, optics shining up at Sunstreaker with conviction.

                Sunstreaker’s optic shutters blinked a few times at the vehemence and confidence in Sideswipe’s voice. “You really think so?”

                Sideswipe’s head swung back and forth with a small, easy going grin. “Naw, bro. I _know_.”

\--

                Ratchet kind of hated FirstTier.

                The vet sat across the lawyer in the precinct’s conference room and wondered how FirstTier had managed to leave the apartment without engaging in a confrontation with either of the twins. Then again, Smokescreen had been present and the twins had had each other. Ratchet, on the other hand, had the echoing sterility of this small room and FirstTier’s smirking faceplates as his only company.

                “You have to stay calm,” FirstTier said, the smirk being instantly replaced by an earnest expression that was more worrisome than the original sneer. “The other side is going to pick up on your anger and use it to manipulate everything you say.”

                “How can I stay calm?” Ratchet retorted. “The twins were fought like beasts for years and the person who enslaved them will be sitting five feet away from me in that courtroom. Matter of fact, how can you stay calm? What kind of a mech are you…”

                “Ratchet,” First Tier interrupted with a firm tone. “I’ve had a lot of practice keeping straight faceplates in the face of horrible things. It was terrible what was done to the twins. But having your testimony discredited will only succeed in ensuring the perpetrator of this crime is released.”

                Ratchet stared down at his hands, and struggled not to say a word. It was hard, but after a count of ten which ended up being multiplied tenfold, he looked up with what he hoped was a blank expression. “I understand.”

                FirstTier looked at him askance. “Uh huh.”

                Ratchet’s intakes let out a large gust of air. “This is very difficult for me,” he admitted.

                The lawyer nodded. “I understand. Here’s the scenario: the defense lawyer is going to do their best to discredit you and your testimony. That’s fine, that’s their job. _Don’t_ get flustered. When I get my turn, I know what questions to ask to turn your testimony around.”

                Ratchet drummed his fingers on top of the table. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”

                FirstTier leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtful. “Ok, here’s another example, this time from both the defense’s prospective and mine. The defense is going to ask you if you bought Sideswipe.” FirstTier looked expectantly at Ratchet.

                “Well, yes, but…” Ratchet trailed off when FirstTier raised his hand.

                “The defense lawyer will likely cut you off here and give you another question to answer, making your first answer appear as if you were involved in buying and selling beast dogs.  But that’s ok!” First Tier hurried to reassure Ratchet. “Just keep answering his questions. Because when I get my turn, here’s what I’m going to ask:           

                “What was your purpose in buying Sideswipe? What were you planning on doing after? Etc,” First Tier said.

                Ratchet sighed again, finally understanding. “This is idiotic.”

                FirstTier shrugged. “It’s law. I think we made a lot of progress tonight. We’ll meet back here tomorrow, same time?”

                Checking his chronometer, Ratchet sighed. “Yes, I suppose. Will it be as long tomorrow as it was tonight?”

                “Likely. We will be brainstorming about every possible question and answer the defense is going to ask you.”

                “Joy,” Ratchet replied bitterly. “I need to get going. The twins are waiting.”

                FirstTier nodded absently as Ratchet stood, already absorbed in inputting information into a data pad. Ratchet spared him one final look before walking out of the room and into the maze of the precinct. He had almost left the hallway of offices when a deep voice called his name from within one of the rooms.

                Ratchet stumbled to a stop and turned, nodding respectfully. “Optimus. Good evening.”

                The large mech fully emerged from his office and studied the vet for a moment. “I hear that the trial date is coming up soon.”

                Nodding, Ratchet leaned up against the wall and mirrored Optimus’ pose, one arm propped outwards by a hand on the waist.

                “End of the week,” Ratchet confirmed.

                Optimus nodded and took a sip of energon from the cube he was holding in his other hand. Ratchet waited for the mech to continue, but not impatiently. Ratchet was tired, more than a little cranky, and really missed his younglings, but Ratchet had noticed that Optimus always had a certain something about him. Something old and calm and peaceful. Ratchet wanted to go home, but was content to rest here under Optimus’ thoughtful gaze, at least for a little while.

                “It will be good when it is over,” Optimus finally said, decisively. “No matter the outcome. Have a good evening.”

                “You too,” Ratchet said as Optimus turned and headed back into his office. He shut the door behind him, and Ratchet stared at it, orbital ridge raised for a moment before continuing on his way.

                It didn’t take Ratchet long to get home; the late hour ensured that traffic on the main thoroughfares was manageable. Jazz engaged him as soon as Ratchet entered the apparent building, but ended the conversation pretty quickly, likely catching on to Ratchet’s weariness. The vet snagged a cube of energon from the common dispenser and trudged up the stairs. Hopefully Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had done as he had suggested and already taken their evening meal.

                After a lingering glance at Ironhide’s door, Ratchet keyed open his own and walked in. The twins looked up from their activities, and Sideswipe quickly bounced to his feet. He rushed over, and hugged Ratchet in gretting.

                “Welcome home,” Sideswipe said.

                “It’s good to be back. Did you find the lawyer as annoying as I did?” Ratchet asked, removing some datapads from subspace and piling them on his desk.

                “Probably more so,” Sunstreaker replied dryly.

                Ratchet nodded a bit and took a sip of his energon. When he turned back around, Sideswipe was right there and Ratchet startled, some of the engergon sloshing out of its cube and over his wrist.

                “Slaggit,” he murmured, transferring his cube to his other hand and flicking the damp one to get the droplets off. Ratchet stilled as he took in Sideswipe’s closeness and wide optics.

                “Sideswipe?”

                “We have to tell you something,” Sideswipe replied, ignoring Sunstreaker shooting to his feet across the room.

                “Sides, don’t!” Sunstreaker hissed.

                “It’s fine, Sunny,” Sideswipe said, his optics locked on Ratchet’s. “Remember what I said.”

                “What’s going on?” Ratchet asked, glancing between Sideswipe’s determined faceplates and Sunstreaker’s alarmed ones. The medic got a sinking feeling in his spark.

                “It’s not that bad. I promise.” Sideswipe paused, nodding to himself briefly before continuing.

                "We've been training with Ironhide.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins confess to Ratchet.

                Ratchet blinked his optics several times before speaking. “I’m sorry… what now?”

                “We’ve been training… with Ironhide?” Sideswipe repeated, his tone unconsciously turning questioning. Despite his earlier words to Sunstreaker, Sideswipe couldn’t help the current flutter in his spark. He remained strong in his conviction that Ratchet loved them whole heartedly. But love wouldn’t stop him from yelling at them.

                “Training? Training to do what?”

                It was Sideswipe’s turn to blink. Usually Ratchet was quicker on the uptake than this. “To fight. As mechs. He’s been teaching us how to not rely on our dog forms.”

                Ratchet stilled, his energon cube halfway up to his lipplates. His optic ridges furrowed as he looked out into space. “Training,” he said. “Fighting.”

                “Yeah. We… we’re kinda bad at it, but I think we’re getting better,” Sideswipe offered, now seriously worried at Ratchet’s lack of reaction. Had he broken their guardian with this tidbit of information?

                Ratchet’s attention moved back to Sideswipe’s faceplates. The vet glanced over Sideswipe’s shoulder at Sunstreaker and then back to Sideswipe. Ratchet’s lipplates opened soundlessly and then shut again, his expression a new one to Sideswipe. And that seriously worried him.

                “This is important to you, isn’t it?” Ratchet slowly asked.

                Sideswipe fidgeted in place, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Not as important as you. We’ll stop if you want us to. But… but we were raised to fight. We’re good at it. It’s…” Sideswipe trailed off trying to find the words to describe how he felt when he was pushing his body to the limits. Now that he wasn’t fighting to the death, he looked forward to sparring with others beside Sunstreaker with a relish that he hadn’t really ever felt before.

                Ratchet ducked his head, giving a small nod. “The scuffs the other day…” he said, peering up beneath lowered optic shutters at Sunstreaker.

                “We didn’t lie,” Sideswipe hurried to say. “We _had_ been interfacing. But yeah, we sparred with Ironhide for the first time. Well, actually Sunstreaker did. I didn’t exert myself, I promise!” Sideswipe said, remembering how adamant Ratchet had been about not further injuring himself.

                Still blinking more rapidly than normal, Ratchet turned to lay the energon cube on the desk. He turned back around and stepped towards Sideswipe. A flash of sadness flitted across Ratchet’s faceplates, and Sideswiped realized that he had flinched at Ratchet’s movement. Slightly horrified at himself, Sideswipe’s shoulders hunched as he ducked his head.

                “You’re an idiot,” Ratchet announced, grasping Sideswipe’s shoulder in one hand and lightly cuffing him across the head with the other. “Both of you. Idiots. You were terrified of what you thought I might do, weren’t you?” Ratchet rose on tiptoe to press a firm kiss against Sideswipe’s forehelm, and Sideswipe dimly heard his armor rattling due to shivering. 

                “Get over here, Sunny,” Ratchet commanded, and Sideswipe felt his brother come up beside him. The tension rolling off Sunstreaker made Sideswipe twitch in response.

                Ratchet kissed Sunstreaker as well before stepping back to look at them, a hand on each of their shoulders. “A lie of omission is still a lie, Sideswipe,” he said, lightly scolding.

                Sideswipe’s head lowered in shame, not helped any by Sunstreaker’s prod of _I told you so_ along their bond.

                “Sunstreaker. You know what I’ve said before about going along with Sideswipe,” Ratchet added.

                Sunstreaker stiffened. “I’m not going to snitch on my brother,” he growled.

                “There’s loyalty… and then there’s what’s right,” Ratchet said, not swayed by Sunstreaker’s glower. “You were upset that night. You were upset enough with Sideswipe to leave the room. I’m not saying tell on Sideswipe every time he does something he shouldn’t. Because we all know that’s going to happen a lot,” he said, flashing a grin in Sideswipe’s direction. Sideswipe grinned back weakly, knowing how much truth were in the words.

                “But if you feel that something is wrong, you should know that you can tell me,” Ratchet added.

                “But it’s ok that we continue training, right?” Sideswipe pressed. It was essential that Ratchet gave them a clear and concise go ahead; otherwise Sideswipe’s pesky conscience would continue to bother at him.

                Ratchet nodded, albeit a little slowly. “Yes, I’m all right with it. It’s obviously important to you. I think I want to see one of your sessions though. To make sure Ironhide’s not pushing you too hard. You’re younglings; not his newest recruits.”

                Sideswipe exchanged glances with Sunstreaker, recalling how Ironhide didn’t pull any punches. “Pushing is kind of the point. But, yeah, you should come sometime,” he hurried to add.

                “It’s a date,” Ratchet said. “Now, speaking of Ironhide…”

                Ratchet trailed off, stiffening as his gaze went unfocused. “Aw, scrap,” Ratchet said. “I got to go back to the Precinct.”

                “What? Now?” Sideswipe asked, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. Ratchet truly didn’t seem upset, but a few cuddles would certainly go a long way in reinforcing that.

                “Yes. One of the dogs was injured during in a rescue operation at the mines. I need to go see to it,” Ratchet explained, already throwing back the rest of his energon in a gulp.

                “We could come with you…” Sideswipe offered hopefully. It would be kind of interesting to see where Ratchet worked in the evenings.

                Ratchet shook his head. “No, no. You two need your rest. Especially with all this training that you two signed yourselves up for,” he said with a wink.

                “Don’t wait up; I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Jazz is downstairs. He’s off shift for the rest of the night. If you need anything, comm. him or stop by. I’ve just told him I have to go.” Ratchet was backing up as he was speaking, obviously falling into vet medic mode with every passing word.

                “All right… well… hope you get it fixed ok…” Sideswipe said, trailing off as Ratchet waved and then opened the door.

                “Shouldn’t be a problem. Stay out of trouble. Love you!” Ratchet called as the door slid shut behind him.

                Sideswipe blinked at the closed door for several moments before looking over his shoulder. “Now what?”

                In answer, Sunstreaker took a step forward and punched Sideswipe in the arm. “You idiot!” Sunstreaker hissed as Sideswipe danced back, glaring daggers at his brother. He should have figured that Sunstreaker wouldn’t have forgiven him as easily as Ratchet had.

                “What if Ratchet had…”

                “Had what? Thrown us out?” Sideswipe retorted. “He didn’t! We’re still here, and he still loves us, so just calm the frag down. Pit, that hurt,” Sideswipe said, whining a little as he rubbed the dent in his upper arm.

                “Stop being such a sparkling,” Sunstreaker chided, stepping towards Sideswipe and reaching for him. Sideswipe let him, still watching him with a wary optic. Sunstreaker fussed over the dent, still grumbling subvocally, and Sideswipe relaxed his guard a bit. Annoyance and anxiety still trickled over their bond, but                Sunstreaker’s emotions were gradually starting to level back out.

                “It worked out ok,” Sideswipe offered. “I told you Ratchet would be fine with it. And it was better to tell him now after only one or two sessions.”

                “Yeah, I know. I just didn’t know you were going to tell him tonight. You nearly gave me a spark attack,” Sunstreaker replied, shooting his brother a reproachful look.

                “You want me to make it up to you?” Sideswipe asked, slipping further into his brother’s space. “Wash and wax?”

                Sunstreaker huffed, taking a step back and crossing his arms across his chassis. “You think I’m going to forgive you that easily?”

                Sideswipe pressed forward again, feeling a grin spread across his lip components. “Absolutely. You know how good I am with my hands. And your last waxing on your shins is fading,” he pointed out. Sunstreaker made an annoyed sound as he stepped back to look.

                As Sideswipe listened to Sunstreaker’s whining, all he could do was smile, his spark finally settling into a pleased rhythm.

\--

                Ratchet was exhausted.

                He had spent most of the night working on the precinct’s service dog. The poor thing had been almost completely crushed in a minor cave in while trying to assist rescue workers in finding stranded mechs. Nearly every system had been trashed, and Ratchet had had to perform emergency stabilization procedures on site before transporting it back to the Academy emergency unit. The resident medic on call had happily let Ratchet continue care and with the go ahead from Optimus, Ratchet had proceeded to remove and replace nearly every component of the beast’s frame.

                The dog’s spark was the only thing that hadn’t taken much damage, so it had come as a surprise when it began to fail near the end of surgery.  Despite best efforts and a lot of cursing, the dog’s spark had fluctuated wildly for several minutes and then finally petered out. No amount of resuscitation attempts elicited even a blip on the spark monitor, and Ratchet had finally had to call the time of death.

                Ratchet’s assistants had stepped back from Ratchet’s side and watched him warily; he was known for his temper, especially in the rare instances when he lost a patient. But Ratchet hadn’t had the energy to rant and curse at the lifeless dog. Instead of the beast’s mangled frame, all he could see were images of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s graying bodies.  Disturbed, and regretting his decision about the twins training with Ironhide, Ratchet had quickly washed the energon from his hands, filed his report and made for home.

                He had been somewhat surprised to find Optimus waiting for him in the emergency waiting room. Optimus had been genuinely concerned about the beast drone, and Ratchet had felt incredibly inadequate as he had had to explain to the Chief Enforcer that the dog had perished. No matter how much Optimus had insisted that it hadn’t been Ratchet’s fault, Ratchet still felt badly.

                As it turned out, Optimus had taken it upon himself to escort Ratchet back home. The Chief ever so subtly had coaxed Ratchet into inane conversation as they drove away from the Academy and slowly, Ratchet had found himself relaxing in the Chief’s calming presence. By the time they had pulled up in front of Ratchet’s building, Ratchet had been lulled into a dull haziness of fatigue, and had barely managed a proper farewell to his companion. Transforming into his root form, he had trudged up the stairs and fumbled his way into his apartment.

                And now he stood, blinking in dazed amusement at the two canine forms curled together on his couch. In the dim light from his optics he saw Sideswipe’s head resting atop Sunstreaker’s flank, the yellow brother nearly obscured beneath Sideswipe’s bulk. They obviously had tried to leave as much room as possible for Ratchet as they were scrunched up together at the ‘foot’ of the couch. However, as time elapsed, they had uncurled some in recharge and now there was barely a third of the surface left for Ratchet to perch upon.

                Ratchet briefly considered waking them out of recharge and shooing them to their own room. Then he decided against it at the sound of their soft, peaceful ventilations. Instead he crawled into the small space his wards had allotted him and got as comfortable as he could. He ended up propping his legs up over Sideswipe’s side and resting his feet atop the far arm of the couch. Surprisingly, neither twin awoke from recharge as he awkwardly lay down. Sideswipe had yipped softly when Ratchet’s legs first descended on him, but had merely yawned and quickly resettled.

                Still wondering at the oddness of the situation, Ratchet’s systems quickly shut down into recharge. Just before his processor went last, he checked his alarm; two hours of recharge wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Hopefully, he could take a nap in Wheeljack’s lab after his classes in the morning.

\--

                Sunstreaker was hot and not in a good way.

                He onlined an optic to see red.

                He onlined his other optic and blinked rapidly, his optics spiraling in and out to focus on the armor covering his brother’s thigh. He grumbled to himself, trying to draw backwards, but unable to due to the weight of his brother on top of him.

                _Hey, glitch. Wake up,_ he said, nudging Sideswipe through their bond. Sideswipe stirred, shifting atop Sunstreaker with an annoying scratch of metal against metal.

                _Don’t wanna,_ Sideswipe murmured.

                _Get off. If you ruin this wax job you owe me another. And why are you running so hot?_ Sunstreaker asked peevishly.

                Sideswipe stilled his stretching and then growled, a little happy noise. _Ratchet’s halfway on top of me; you’re feeling his frame’s heat too._

Sunstreaker squirmed, trying to crane his neck around to see their guardian. Unfortunately, he was facing the opposite direction, and the weight atop him was too much.

                _Aww, he looks so tired,_ Sideswipe said, a hint of sadness in his tone.

                _When did he get in, anyway?_

                _Dunno. Must have been late. I don’t remember him coming in at all._ Sideswipe’s words had a hint of amazement in them, and Sunstreaker wondered when they had gotten so soft that a mech could practically drape himself over one of them and they wouldn’t know it.

                _Just give me a sec; I don’t wanna wake him up,_ Sideswipe said.

                Sunstreaker growled softly in agreement and held still as Sideswipe slithered out from under Ratchet’s legs. The appendages came to rest across Sunstreaker’s shoulders, and he nosed at Ratchet’s closest knee. He licked at the armor, nuzzling against it. Checking his chronometer, he realized that Ratchet would be waking soon and hoped he had gotten enough recharge.

                The sounds of transformation came from behind him, and a moment later, Sideswipe reached over and lifted Ratchet’s legs so that Sunstreaker could move out from under them. Sunstreaker slid off the couch and transformed as Sideswipe gently rearranged Ratchet into a more comfortable position.

                Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stood together and gazed down upon their guardian, watching him ventilate for a few minutes. Then Sunstreaker shook himself and nudged Sideswipe into moving. They left the room, quietly shutting the door behind them.

                “It’s still early. What do you want to do?” Sideswipe asked, casting one more worried look at Ratchet’s door.

                “Washracks,” Sunstreaker decided. “Then energon. We’ll bring it back in time for Ratchet to wake out of recharge. Maybe this morning we can actually spend time with him.”

                “Sounds like a plan. Sorry ‘bout the scuffs, bro,” Sideswipe said, brushing a hand over Sunstreaker’s shoulder.

                Sunstreaker tried to be annoyed, but he couldn’t. Not with Sideswipe’s honest apology and Ratchet’s slumbering form only feet away from them.

                He shrugged. “Ratchet works himself too hard,” he said instead.

                Frowning, Sideswipe nodded. “Yeah. But hey, we’re not that far off from our majority. Lots of places start taking apprentices now with guardian permission. And lots of those apprenticeships are paid. It’s not much, but once we start bringing something home, maybe Ratchet can slow down a bit.”

                “But who would take us? We don’t have any education,” Sunstreaker pointed out as they began walking down the hallway.

                Sideswipe shook his head. “That’s why they’re apprenticeships – you learn as you go. We’ll ask Prowl; he seems to know everyone.”

                “That’s not a bad idea, Sides,” Sunstreaker said, musing. “We can find out from Smokescreen when Prowl will be around. What would you want to apprentice in?”

                “Dunno. Doesn’t really matter, anyway. Anything well paid so Ratchet can take a break, you know?”

                “Yeah,” Sunstreaker said. He was silent until they opened their apartment door. “You think… you think artists take apprentices?” he ventured, almost shyly. He had no illusions that he was a great artist, but his latest drawings had at least seemed passable.

                Sideswipe paused with his hand on the washrack door and looked at him in surprise. Then a wash of affection and happiness flowed through their bond. Sunstreaker’s optic shutters drooped, and he let himself sink into the emotions that Sideswipe was projecting.

                “I bet they do,” Sideswipe murmured, drawing Sunstreaker close to gently press his forehelm against Sunstreaker’s. “And I bet you’ll be the greatest artist of the age.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet goes missing.

                When they returned, Ratchet still hadn’t emerged from his room. They decided to let him rest for as long as possible considering his late return. While they waited, Sunstreaker fetched his drawing pad and commenced recreating the scene in the training room from the other day. He was particularly interested in capturing Sideswipe’s fierce expression as he had perched atop Ironhide’s chest.

                Sideswipe occupied himself with games for a while until he got bored. Then he draped himself across Sunstreaker’s shoulder and watched the motion of Sunstreaker’s hand across the pad. 

                He was quiet for a long time and gradually Sunstreaker forget he was even there until his brother shifted minutely and pressed a kiss against Sunstreaker’s closest neck cable.

                “That’s really good,” Sideswipe murmured.

                “Hmm? Oh, thanks,” Sunstreaker said in distraction, pausing to study the drawing. After some coloring and overall edits, it would be presentable.

                “Don’t let Ratchet see that, though, huh?”

                Sunstreaker looked up and blinked, checking his chronometer. “Did I miss him getting up?”

                Sideswipe straightened and shook his head, a frown on his faceplates. “No. It’s past time for him to leave. Maybe the Academy gave him some time off?” he suggested, already moving out of the common room. Sunstreaker saved his work and followed his brother, impatiently standing behind Sideswipe as his twin slowly opened Ratchet’s door.

                “Huh. He’s not here,” Sideswipe said, after peering inside. Sunstreaker pushed past Sideswipe and surveyed the empty room. Ratchet’s berth coverings were haphazardly strewn across the couch and floor and data pads were scattered everywhere. A cold feeling began to spread through Sunstreaker’s tanks.

                “He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye,” Sunstreaker remarked, shifting anxiously.

                Sensing his disquiet, Sideswipe stroked a hand down Sunstreaker’s arm. “He was probably confused from so little recharge and left while we were in the washracks. Here… I’ll just comm. him.”

                Sunstreaker watched as Sideswipe’s faceplates took on a faraway look and then creased in a frown.

                “What? What is it?”

                “He’s not answering. I’m just getting static,” Sideswipe said slowly.

                Sunstreaker abruptly whirled and stalked out of Ratchet’s room, Sideswipe hurrying along behind.

                “Sunny? What are… where are you going?” he asked as Sunstreaker strode across the common room and opened the main door.

                “To find Ratchet,” Sunstrearker replied. Even knowing that Ratchet couldn’t have made it into the washracks without them noticing, Sunstreaker peeked inside the room. Not seeing his guardian, Sunstreaker turned around and nearly ran over his twin.

                “Watch it,” he barked in irritation. Sideswipe gave him a look but backed off as Sunstreaker took off up the stairs.

                Once he reached the landing, he strode over to the door to the loft and banged on the surface several times before stepping back and crossing his arms over his chassis. Moments later, he felt Sideswipe come up next to him, but Sunstreaker ignored his twin in favor of staring at the door and willing it to open. Preferably with answers.

                The door opened seconds later, and Smokescreen looked out at them with a surprised expression.

                “Sunstreaker! Sideswipe! Is everything ok?”

                “We can’t find Ratchet,” Sunstreaker announced, some small part of him relieved that there was now an adult standing in front of him. 

                “We think that he left while we were in the washracks, but he’s never gone without saying goodbye,” Sideswipe helpfully supplied. “We wouldn’t have bothered you, but I couldn’t reach him on the comms.”

                Smokescreen nodded and raised a finger as he accessed his communications system. Moments later he frowned. “You’re right; I can’t get him either.”

                He paused again. “Prowl said that Hound was supposed to be escorting him this morning. But the last time I checked, Hound had switched shifts with Bluestreak.”

                Smokescreen turned and shouted into the interior of the apartment. “Blue!”

                While waiting for a response, Smokescreen beckoned them inside, and Sunstreaker walked into the common room, Sideswipe close by his side. Sideswipe looked around curiously, but all Sunstreaker could do was impatiently tap his foot on the ground.

                Smokescreen’s cousin entered the common room, his sensory panels arched high with alarm.

                “What is it? What… oh, hi, Sides, Sunstreaker. Is everything ok? Why are you…?”

                “Hound switched shifts with you today, didn’t he?” At Bluestreak’s nod, Smokescreen continued. “Did he switch escort duty as well?”

                Bluestreak’s optics went wide. “Oh no!” he gasped. “Was I supposed to escort Ratchet this morning?”

                “Looks like it,” Smokescreen said.

                Bluestreak’s attention turned towards the twins, and Sunstreaker’s metaphorical hackles raised as the sharpshooter rushed forward. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know; I should have known, but I didn’t ask, and now Ratchet’s missing?!”

                “I’m sure he’s just at the Academy,” Sideswipe said, stepping forward to intercept Bluestreak. He quietly hushed the gunner, patting his hands when they grasped at Sideswipe’s arms.

                “Then why isn’t he answering our hails?” Sunstreaker spat.

                “There could be plenty of reasons…” Smokescreen began.

                “Yeah, like one of TopNotch’s goons has him and has disabled his comms,” Sunstreaker said, his anxiety levels rising with every passing second.

                _Stop it. You’re scaring Bluestreak,_ Sideswipe said, and Sunstreaker glared at the back of Sideswipe’s helm.

                _Good! It’s his fault Ratchet is missing!_ Sunstreaker shot back.

                Unable to take Bluestreak’s babbling any longer, Sunstreaker abruptly turned on his foot and went back out the open door. He refused to stop when Smokescreen called after him or when Sideswipe poked at him along their bond. Waiting around wouldn’t find Ratchet any faster and if someone had captured him… Sunstreaker couldn’t bear to think about it, so he shoved that line of code to the back of his processor.

                Flying down the stairs to the ground floor, he almost barreled over Jazz who was coming up.

                “Woah there, mech!” Jazz said, as they danced in place to avoid colliding with one another. “I just heard about Ratchet. Let’s take a second.”

                Jazz reached out and grasped Sunstreaker’s arm. Sunstreaker irritably tried to shake him off, but Jazz’s fingers clamped down tight and Sunstreaker paused, a low growl bubbling up behind his chestplate.

                “Let. Me. Go,” Sunstreaker growled. “I have to find Ratchet.”

                “And we will. But take a moment to clear your processor first,” Jazz suggested, his visor bright.

                “There’s no time!” Sunstreaker protested, processor still creating horrible images of Ratchet mangled and maimed at the hands of their former master. He heard the sound of footsteps on the stair behind him and hoped it was Sideswipe because he couldn’t stand Smokescreen or Bluestreak’s presence at the moment.

                “There is,” Jazz insisted. “Now when was the last time ya saw him?”

                “About 3 hours ago. We were recharging with him. Then we got up to go to the washracks, and we brought up energon afterwards. We were gone for 45 minutes at the most,” Sideswipe said, arriving at Sunstreaker’s side and pressing against his shoulder. Sunstreaker gratefully pressed back, buoyed by his twin’s presence.

                “After getting energon, you came back into the apartment? Did you check on Ratchet then?”

                “No, we thought we would let him recharge as long as possible. He came in late last night. We were in the common room; there was no way he could have gotten past us.”

                Jazz released Sunstreaker and took a step back. “Hmm. And you don’t think that maybe he just left while you were in the ‘racks?”

                “He always says goodbye. And he won’t answer his comms. I think someone took him,” Sunstreaker said, spark whirling wildly.

                “Yeah, I tried his comms after Smokesceen did. Well, guess we’re gonna have to go to the Academy,” Jazz said with a decisive air.

                Sunstreaker threw his hands up in the air. “That’s what I was doing when you stopped me!”

                “Do ya know how to get there, youngling?” Jazz asked, turning and heading for the main building door.

                Sunstreaker glared at Jazz’s back plating. “No,” he grumbled. “But I would have found it.”

                They descended the front steps and at the road’s edge, Jazz folded down into his transport form, a black and white low slung racing model. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stared at Jazz for several moments as he idled in place.

                “Well? Ya plan on walking there?” Jazz asked, his engine revving as he rocked forward on his wheels. Sunstreaker exchanged glances with his brother.

                “Uh… we don’t have transport forms,” Sideswipe said slowly, his optics scanning over every curve of Jazz’s form with an avid light that Sunstreaker knew to be wary of.

                “But we could run?” Sideswipe asked, brightening with the thought. He quickly folded down into his dog form.

                A squeak sounded off to the right, and Sideswipe plopped down on his haunches, glancing over his shoulder. He barked cheerfully at the startled femme who had just come out of the next building over. Despite Sideswipe’s friendly wave of his tail balancer, the femme darted back inside, and Sideswipe’s ear flaps drooped in disappointment.

                Jazz chortled, his frame jiggling in place. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, Sides. You two look pretty fearsome as dogs.”

                Impatient that they weren’t moving, Sunstreaker took a step forward and loomed over Jazz’s ground hugging form. “Then we’ll walk,” he growled. “Can we get going now?”

                “Alright,” Jazz said in agreement, transforming back into his root form. “We’ll walk.”

\--

                Sunstreaker was practically buzzing with anxiety as they walked onto the Academy grounds. The walk had seemed to take forever even though it had barely been twenty minutes. The whole time, Sunstreaker fretted and cursed that they had never asked Ratchet about their transport forms. It hadn’t crossed either of their processors before today.

                “All right,” Jazz said, pausing in front of one of the buildings. “This is where Ratchet normally has class at this time of day. I want ya stay out here and wait for me.” At the twins’ protests, Jazz raised a hand.

                “I know ya want to get him found, but I’m trying not to disturb the mechs both learning and teaching here, all right? For all we know, he’s out on a rotation or something.”

                “Maybe we should split up,” Sideswipe suggested.

                Jazz shook his head. “No, just stay together and stay here. I’ll be right back.” He jogged up the stairs to the building and entered while Sunstreaker stared after him, fuming.

                “This is ridiculous,” he spat to Sideswipe in a low whisper. He glared at as they passed by with curious glances and crossed his arms over his chassis. “Ratchet’s probably being dissected as we wait here!”

                “Sunny,” Sideswipe said, in the infuriating tone he used whenever he thought he knew best. Sunstreaker suddenly wanted to smack his twin. “I’m worried too, but you know how Ratchet leaves his audios off all the time. Maybe he did the same with his comms.”

                “Why? Why would he do that?” Sunstreaker demanded, even more infuriated with his brother as Sideswipe calmly stood in place and looked around, drinking in the sights.

                “I don’t know. We’ll ask him when… hey. There he is!”

                “There who is?” Sunstreaker asked, turning to glare at Sideswipe. But he wasn’t there.

                Sideswipe was racing away, tail balancer swinging wildly in the air as his canine frame flew across the grounds. Sunstreaker looked up to see what Sideswipe was running towards and spotted a flash of red. He immediately took off in a run after Sideswipe, although he remained in his root form, remembering the reaction of the femme this morning.

                All around him, mechs were shouting and pointing, but Sunstreaker didn’t care. His strides ate up the distance between him and the white and red mech that was Sideswipe’s target. Closer now, Sunstreaker could see Ratchet’s familiar height, coloring, and even his chevron.

                There was a mech walking beside their guardian; at the sound of the shouts, the unknown mech turned and Sunstreaker identified Wheeljack. Wheeljack stopped and grabbed Ratchet’s arm, wheeling him around just in time for Sideswipe to launch himself from the ground at Ratchet’s chest.

                Ratchet hit the ground with a loud clang, muffled curses spewing from his mouthplates in between frantic licks from Sideswipe’s glossa. Sunstreaker arrived moments after, dropping to his knees by Ratchet’s side and hauling Sideswipe away by the scruff. He leaned over Ratchet to peer into his faceplates, ignoring Sideswipe’s whines.

                “Are you all right?” Sunstreaker demanded, his optics raking over their guardian’s frame and evaluating for wounds.

                “You... what… both of you… _what the frag_?!” Ratchet finally managed to get out between splutters. Dimly, Sunstreaker realized that Wheeljack was giggling above their heads, and they were attracting stares from all around, but he didn’t care. Ratchet was the only thing occupying his optics.

                “Are you hurt? Who took you? How did you get away?” Sunstreaker asked, releasing Sideswipe so that he could use both of his hands to feel along Ratchet’s frame.       

                Ratchet batted his hands away and sat up despite Sideswipe’s large frame draped over his lap.

                “Took me?! No one took me. And no, I’m not hurt! What in the Pit is going on? Why are you two here?” Ratchet demanded, automatically soothing a hand down Sideswipe’s head as the red dog whined.

                “We came back with energon, and you were gone,” Sunstreaker stated, relaxing back on his heels as he saw that Ratchet was unharmed.

                “You weren’t answering your comms. We thought someone had taken you,” Sunstreaker continued, startled to hear a panicked-sounding hitch in his vocalizer. “You didn’t say goodbye!”

                Ratchet stared at Sunstreaker for a moment and then down at Sideswipe. Their guardian then groaned and covered his faceplates with both of his hands.

                “I did not get enough recharge to deal with this,” he muttered. Abruptly, Sunstreaker felt like a fool. Sideswipe had been right; there was a reasonable explanation for Ratchet’s early departure and Sunstreaker had blown everything out of proportion.

                Ratchet dropped his hands and something in Sunstreaker’s faceplates must have alerted him to the turmoil in Sunstreaker’s processor.

                “Oh, bitlet,” he said, reaching out to stroke a hand down one of Sunstreaker’s cheekplates. “I left a message on a datapad. Which I put on your berth. I had an early exam this morning. It’s a requirement that we turn our comms off during testing.”

                “Which is all well and good…” Jazz called out, jogging up to them, “…but we couldn’t reach anyone in the administrative office either, including the President of the Academy. That’s when _I_ started to get a little concerned.”

                Ratchet’s optics blinked and then cycled down. “That one I can’t explain. Although I think this time of the week, they have administrative meetings. They probably turn off their comms for that as well.”

                Jazz stared at Ratchet for a moment and turned to gaze at Sunstreaker, his helm tilted to the side and his visor dimmed. “You didn’t check your own room, did ya?”

                Sunstreaker slumped, feeling like an idiot. “No,” he muttered. From across their bond, Sunstreaker felt Sideswipe’s embarrassment double his own. Sideswipe’s ear flaps drooped, and he dropped his head to apologetically lick Ratchet’s hand.

                “So just one big misunderstanding then,” Wheeljack announced, clapping his hands together and gaining everyone’s attention. “Well, I’m just happy that everyone’s all right. And that for once, I wasn’t the one pounced on!”

\--

                “Aww, it was cute. They were running towards you like something out of a vid,” Wheeljack said, optics dancing merrily. His best friend was doing his best to make light of the situation, but Ratchet wasn’t having it.

                “They didn’t have to come along. They should have waited back at the apartment while Jazz looked into it. Why the slag did Jazz even let them come?!” Ratchet asked, still feeling the sting of embarrassment of being tackled to the ground in the middle of the Commons.

                “Could he have stopped them?” Wheeljack pointed out. Ratchet had to admit that despite whatever skills Jazz had as an Enforcer, going up against two large, determined former dog fighters probably wouldn’t have ended well for their building manager.

                “Could have tried,” Ratchet muttered into his energon cube.

                “Ratchet…” Wheeljack sighed. “They were just concerned. You can see how they were worried, right? Don’t be too angry with them.”

                Exventing, Ratchet turned to look at his friend. “I’m not angry with them,” he replied truthfully. “Annoyed, exasperated – yes. I have to speak with the President later after this regarding the ‘incident’,” Ratchet complained, using his fingers to create quote marks in the air.

                “Oh, I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Wheeljack said, sympathetically patting Ratchet on the shoulder.

                Ratchet groaned, sliding his cube to the side and resting his head on his crossed arms. “Did I take on too much, ‘Jack? Every day I’m exhausted!”

                “It’s just been a couple of hard days, Ratch. You’ll get through this.”

                “Ironhide is training the twins. Did I tell you that?” Ratchet asked, his voice coming out muttered.

                Wheeljack’s hand stilled in its soothing rub. “Training them? Like teaching them how to be Enforcers?”

                Ratchet shrugged. “Sideswipe said teaching them to fight as mechs, not dogs. It seemed important to them. I guess fighting is in their nature, no matter what,” he said, disappointment coloring his tone.

                Wheeljack was silent for a while, his hand gradually resuming its comforting pats on Ratchet’s upper back. “We’re not all cut out for science,” Wheeljack mused.

                Ratchet suddenly sat straight up, Wheeljack jerking back in surprise at the motion. “I’m failing them,” Ratchet announced. “They’re just going to end up in the rings as mechs instead of dogs, and I’ll have been the worst caregiver ever.”

                “Wow,” Wheeljack said, staring at Ratchet. “Anything else you’d like to get off your spark, Drama Prime?”

                Ratchet huffed and glared at his friend. “I’m not being dramatic.”

                “Oh, yes you are. The younglings are smart. You said Sunny likes to draw, and Sideswipe is good with math. That sound like gladiator mechs to you? What I’m more concerned with is how this is all going to work out with Ironhide. Have you told them yet about your little… indiscretions… with their trainer?”

                If anything, Ratchet’s glare deepened. “It was _one_ indiscretion,” he muttered.

                “That you’d like to continue,” Wheeljack said with a saucy wink of an optic.

                Ratchet growled and shook his head. “I was going to tell them yesterday. And the day before that. But things keep happening!”

                “Well, make a point to sit down and tell them tonight. Look how they reacted this morning when they thought someone had snuck in and stolen you. If they accidently walk in on you and Ironhide, who knows what they’re gonna think?”

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet makes an ultimatum and he and the Twins finally get some quiet time together.

                Sideswipe was having a hard time concentrating on his lessons. He was still jittery from the earlier adrenaline rush regarding Ratchet’s disappearance, and all he _really_ wanted to do was grab Sunstreaker and spar with him. Or race him. Anything that required _movement_ , instead of sitting here, pretending to know what in the Pit Smokescreen was going on about.

                Suddenly, Sideswipe flinched. He waved off Smokescreen’s startled and concerned expression. “Had an itch,” he explained, rubbing his side.

                As subtly as he could, Sideswipe glared over his shoulder. _What was that for?_ He demanded of his brother, still feeling the sting of Sunstreaker’s mental slap.

                _This is interesting. You’re distracting me,_ Sunstreaker replied, his optics trained on Smokescreen’s faceplates as their tutor droned on about Something Important A Very Long Time Ago.

                _But this is_ boring _!_ Sideswipe complained.

                _Not to me. Pay attention for the next hour, and I’ll frag you so hard you won’t remember you were ever bored._

Sideswipe perked up, a grin flashing across his faceplates before he smoothed out his expression.

                Smokescreen didn’t like it when they had whole conversations between them while they were supposed to be learning. Their tutor was surprisingly good at sensing when they were talking over their bond too.

                _Sounds like a plan. Can we spar after?_

                _Even_ after _Ironhide’s training? Where’d all this energy come from?_ Sunstreaker asked, surprised.

                Sideswipe shrugged, making a face at Smokescreen’s warning expression. _Haven’t had a chance to run in awhile. Forgot how good it feels._

 _All right. We’ll spar later. If you have the energy after I’m done with you,_ Sunstreaker replied with an easy agreement.

                A small part of Sideswipe rejoiced at his brother’s relaxed state. Sunstreaker had been a wound up mess last night after Ratchet had left, despite Ratchet’s seeming acceptance of their training with Ironhide.

                Sideswipe had coaxed Sunstreaker into a brief round of spark merging this morning while in the washracks to take his brother’s mind off of things. Whatever brief peace Sunstreaker had found had been utterly erased by Ratchet’s supposed disappearance shortly after. Sideswipe hoped that some hard, physical activity would drain Sunstreaker of any remaining anxiety that might be lingering.

                And if it benefited Sideswipe’s own need for energy expenditure, well then, there wasn’t anything wrong with that, now was there?

\--

 

                “Ow,” Sideswipe complained, his view of the ceiling slightly fuzzy as his processor recovered from his impact with the floor.

                “Move faster,” Ironhide instructed.

                “Wasn’t I?”

                Ironhide made a thoughtful sound and walked over, leaning down so that all Sideswipe could see was the blue of his optics.

                “Yeah, you were,” Ironhide conceded. “But not fast enough.”

                Sideswipe groaned and accepted Ironhide’s hand, gaining his feet painfully. For about the eighth time, he regretted the vigorous bout of interfacing he and Sunstreaker had indulged in before coming down here. On top of that, they had forgone their midday rations in an attempt to ensure they didn’t miss Ironhide. Sideswipe was certainly feeling the lack of energy right about now.

                “Come on, up and at ‘em,” Ironhide said, patting Sideswipe on the back as Sideswipe wobbled his way back to the middle of the floor.

                “Ugh,” Sideswipe said, flexing a creaking shoulder. “When are we going to train on those?” he asked as pointed with his chin over to the wall of blades and blasters.

                “When you can stay on your feet for longer than thirty seconds,” Ironhide replied. Then he rushed Sideswipe.

                There was a flurry of blows, some which Sideswipe managed to block; most made impact and made his armor reverberate with pain. He reeled back from a hit across his cheek strut and then collapsed to the floor when Ironhide swung out a leg and pulled Sideswipe’s knee out from under him.

                There was an exclamation from somewhere near the stairs and then a red and white blur appeared, standing over Sideswipe. He had to blink a few times in order to refocus his optics.

                “Ratchet?” Sideswipe asked. “’s that you?”

                “He can’t even recognize me!” Ratchet cried, sparing Sideswipe a glance over his shoulder. “That was too rough!”

                Ironhide raised an optic ridge and took a step back from the angrily vibrating medic. Sideswipe didn’t blame him; Ratchet looked furious. “He’s fine. Aren’t ya, Sides?”

                “Yeah, I’m fine, Ratch,” Sideswipe said, sitting up so fast that he wobbled. Ratchet made another concerned noise and leaned down to assist. Sideswipe made a point to stand without Ratchet’s help and beamed at his guardian when he was upright.

                “We can take these kind of hits,” Sunstreaker said, walking over to stand next to Sideswipe. “Our armor is top of the line.”

                “Not much better,” Ironhide added, and Sideswipe turned his beaming expression to their trainer. Ironhide’s compliments were few and far between, but that made them all the more special.

                “Well, aren’t you supposed to be teaching them to _not_ get hit? From what I saw, that’s all that happened!”

                “Hey!” Sidesipe protested, feeling just a little bit insulted. He hadn’t been doing all _that_ badly.

                “He avoided two,” Ironhide replied.

                “Oh, wow, _two_ whole punches!” Ratchet exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

                Ironhide frowned and planted his hands on his hips. “Improvement is improvement. And he’s good. Both of them,” he said, nodding at Sunstreaker. “They learn fast, and it’s only been three days.”

                But Ratchet was shaking his head and grasping behind him for Sideswipe’s arm. “I don’t care. This is over!”

                Sideswipe’s optics widened, and he dug in his heels as Ratchet pulled on him. “Over? As in… over?”

                “As in no more! We’ll find some other way for you to get exercise. Let’s go,” Ratchet commanded, still pulling.

                “But… Ratchet…” Sideswipe protested, letting himself be dragged along as he tossed a pleading look over his shoulder at an amused looking Ironhide. Slagger wasn’t even helping!

                “Sunny?” Sideswipe directed at his silent brother, but Sunstreaker had his lipplates pursed together tightly and only shook his head as he followed behind them.

                “Ratchet? Come on, I barely got a dent,” Sideswipe said, as Ratchet continued to drag him to the first story landing and up the stairs. “And look – self repair is already at work!”

                Ratchet ignored the arm that Sideswipe waved in front of him and continued marching, muttering subvocally about meddling aftheads and offlining.

                _What just happened?_ Sideswipe asked his twin.

                _Don’t know. But he seems...frazzled. Let’s get him calmed down and then see._

Sideswipe nodded, even as Ratchet marched him right up to their apartment door and then through it. Once past the doorway, Ratchet stepped aside to let Sunstreaker through and then whirled Sideswipe around, yanking him down so he could examine the side of Sideswipe’s helm.

                “Ow,” Sideswipe muttered in mild protest. “You’re rougher than ‘Hide is.”

                Ratchet paused to glare at him before probing deeper at the dent that Sideswipe hadn’t even realized he had received. Huh. Maybe he _had_ impacted the ground a little harder than any of them had anticipated.

                “This is minor,” Ratchet finally concluded with a slump of his shoulders. “Thank Primus.”

                He pulled on Sideswipe again, this time enfolding him in Ratchet’s arms. Sideswipe blinked in befuddlement at Sunstreaker over Ratchet’s shoulder.

                “Uh… Ratch? Is everything ok?” Sideswipe ventured.

                Ratchet shuddered and held Sideswipe tighter. “I will _not_ lose you,” he fiercely whispered.

                “You’re not going to,” Sideswipe replied, gesturing for Sunstreaker to come closer. Sunstreaker did as Sideswipe indicated, moving up behind Ratchet and embracing them both.

                “Why are you home so early?” Sunstreaker murmured against the back of Ratchet’s neck. “Did something happen?”

                “The Academy President released me for the rest of the day. Said I went ‘above and beyond’ last night with the precinct dog,” Ratchet said, his voice muffled against Sideswipe’s shoulder.

                “Well, hey, that’s good, right? How’s the dog doing now? Back up on his feet already, I bet,” Sideswipe said, smiling. “He has the best vet around.” A little flattery couldn’t hurt, right?

                “He offlined. Spark failure,” Ratchet said, his fingers digging tighter into Sideswipe’s back armor. Sideswipe groaned silently, feeling horrible.

                _That’s probably why he’s suddenly being all weird about the training thing,_ Sideswipe remarked, letting his engine purr softly in comfort.

                _Yeah, probably. We’ll bring it up again later,_ Sunstreaker said, wisely knowing that Sideswipe really wanted to press the issue now.

                Sideswipe exvented in reply, but held Ratchet a little tighter. “I’m sure you did everything you could. And it offlined under pain meds with lots of mechs around who cared about it,” Sideswipe said into Ratchet’s audio.

                Ratchet sagged a little in their arms before straightening and shaking his head. “If I had done everything I could, it would still be functioning, wouldn’t it?” he asked bitterly.

                “But it doesn’t matter. It’s gone, I have the rest of the day off, and I plan to spend it with you two as an apology for worrying you so much this morning. So… any suggestions for what you would like to do today?”

                Sideswipe and Sunstreaker exchanged uncertain glances before Sideswipe spoke up for both of them.

                “A movie? And cuddles?” he suggested. If Ratchet was willing, they would take advantage of the fact that they finally had him to themselves and not let Ratchet go for as long as possible.

                Ratchet looked surprised, but then nodded. “Are you sure? We could always take a walk; I interrupted your exercise time.”

                Sideswipe shrugged. “Sunny and I got lots of exercise earlier,” he said, throwing his brother a leer. “So staying in is great. But… can we just… talk… about the training thing? Not now,” Sideswipe hurried to add, seeing Ratchet’s shoulders tense up. “Maybe tomorrow. We can… discuss it.” He looked down at his guardian with hopeful optics.

                 Ratchet opened his mouth and then paused. Finally he shook his head, a wry smile spreading across his lipplates. “We’ll talk. But I’m not promising anything,” Ratchet warned.

                Sideswipe backed up, hands rising into the air in a nonthreatening manner. “I know. I’m going to pick out a movie. Have you had your energon yet? If not, you and Sunny could go grab some.”

                “I have, but we can get dinner early. Sunstreaker? Will you escort me?” Ratchet asked, turning and looking up at Sunny.

                Sideswipe watched his as his brother nodded and then followed Ratchet towards the door. Sunstreaker was walking closely enough that their arms kept brushing, and Ratchet didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

                Ratchet was obviously pretty shaken up by losing his patient. Sideswipe hoped they could discuss the training issue without much disagreement, but Sunstreaker was right. The precinct dog’s death was still too fresh in Ratchet’s processor and probably reminded him too much of their own canine forms.

                No, tonight was about letting Ratchet sit back and relax, to see that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were fine and healthy. It would reassure them as well, to bask once more in Ratchet’s presence when it had been so scarce the past few days.

                Nodding to himself, Sideswipe set about rearranging pillows and blankets into a comfortable nest, wondering if Ratchet would mind if Sideswipe transformed into his canine frame. Ratchet gave the best ear scritches, after all.

\--

                Sunstreaker onlined with a start, tense and alert in nanoseconds. He remained still, and extended his sensors, searching for what had awakened him. Next to him, Sideswipe’s ventilations subtly changed into wakefulness, his brother following Sunstreaker’s lead.

                _What is it?_ Sideswipe asked. 

                Sunstreaker checked his chronometer; they had only been in recharge for a few hours. The majority of the afternoon and evening had been spent in the common room, watching movies and television shows. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had draped themselves across Ratchet’s lap and refused to let him move, getting up themselves and retrieving whatever Ratchet had wanted. Ratchet hadn’t protested much, so they had known that he had been willing enough to submit to their attentions.

                Their guardian hadn’t been able to stay awake long once darkness fell. He had slipped into recharge near the middle of the last movie, head lolling against Sideswipe’s shoulder and hand on Sunstreaker’s helm where it rested across Ratchet’s lap. They hadn’t the sparks to wake him up, so they had let the movie run to the end.  Then, Sunstreaker had carefully carried Ratchet to his room. Ratchet had been gently laid down and covered with blankets, all the while never stirring. Shortly after, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe themselves had fallen into recharge, tired from the last two days’ emotional roller coaster.

                _I don’t know. Maybe nothing,_ Sunstreaker replied slowly. Then there was a whisper of sound from the direction of the common room. Neither one of them could tell if it was outside the apartment or within.

                _Or maybe not._ In unison, they sat up, fight programs whirling to life.

                _You check on Ratchet,_ Sideswipe suggested. _I’ll check the common room._

 _Be careful,_ Sunstreaker replied, resolutely squashing down unease at the thought of them separating. Sideswipe could take care of himself; Ratchet, on the other hand, was a helpless target. 

                They crept to their door and silently opened it. Nothing greeted them in the hallway so with one last look at each other, Sunstreaker went to the left and Sideswipe right.

                Ratchet’s door slid to the side without a sound, and Sunstreaker entered, his optics scanning the room. There weren’t a lot of places to hide, but Sunstreaker prowled the limits of the room, all the while listening to Ratchet’s reassuring ventilations.

                _Everything ok in there?_ Sideswipe asked.

                _Clear,_ Sunstreaker replied tersely, giving Ratchet’s prone form a once over. _Out there?_

_Not a fragged thing. Maybe we heard…_

Sideswipe’s words trailed off in a sudden crash from the common room. Sunstreaker reflexively took a step forward, instincts screaming at him to cover his twin’s back. He paused, however, as Ratchet jerked awake with a snort.

                “Wha… Sunny? What was that?” Ratchet asked, his optics confused and his faceplates still slack from interrupted recharge.

                “We heard something,” Sunstreaker explained. “Sideswipe’s looking into it.”

                “’Looking into it?’” Ratchet demanded, rolling off the edge of the bed at another loud crash. “He’s going to get hurt!”

                Sunstreaker grabbed Ratchet as he tried to run past him, securing the medic against his chassis as Ratchet struggled. “He’s fine,” Sunstreaker said, feeling the familiar fight-induced excitement flowing from Sideswipe.

                “Ironhide and Prowl are at the Precinct,” Ratchet said, stilling, his ventilations strained. Sunstreaker mentally slapped himself for not thinking of calling any of the Enforcers in the building. “Jazz is on the way up. He said to stay where we are.”

                “And that’s what we’ll do,” Sunstreaker said, his optics and audios trained on the door, desperately wishing he knew what was happening outside it.

                Suddenly, there was a yelp and a shot of viscous satisfaction shot their bond. “Jazz is here,” Sunstreaker informed Ratchet, getting a quick image from Sidesipe of a black and white blur tackling another dark mech.

                “Oh, thank Primus,” Ratchet said, sagging in Sunstreaker’s hold. “I can’t believe…” Ratchet words trailed off as they heard the loud report of a blaster. “Was that Jazz?” Ratchet asked, vocalizer staticky with worry.

                Another round went off, this time accompanied by a flash of pain along Sunstreaker’s side. He flinched, dropping a hand to feel along his lower abdomen, but when he raised his hand, it was clean. The pain abruptly went away as the bond Sunstreaker shared with his brother slammed shut.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet practices his medical skills and another discussion is had.

                Sunstreaker felt a rising panic as his spark called out for Sideswipe. His twin didn’t answer and when the sound of breaking glass came, Sunstreaker’s resolve broke as well. He pushed Ratchet towards the berth, and pointed a finger at him.

                “Stay there!” he barked. Then he shoved the bedroom door aside and sprinted down the hallway. He paused just before the common room’s doorway and warily poked his head around the edge, calling out as he did so.

                The strained sounds of Sideswipe’s voice giving him the all clear was like music to his audios. He moved into the doorway, and paused, assessing the room. 

                “You an’ Ratch ok?” Jazz demanded, standing by the now broken window above Ratchet’s desk.

                “We’re fine,” Sunstreaker replied, optics searching for his brother. They alighted upon Sideswipe sitting in the middle of the common room floor, surrounded by the remnants of a shredded up pillow. Sideswipe’s hand was pressed to his lower left abdomen.

                Sunstreaker rushed to his twin’s side, dropping to his knees and gently sliding Sideswipe’s hand away. Energon immediately welled up from the still smoking tear in Sideswipe’s armor, and Sunstreaker could see wires sparking in the depths of the wound. He immediately slammed his hand back over the hole.

                Sideswipe met Sunstreaker’s optics with a weak grin. “Almost had him,” he boasted. “But the fragger brought a blaster to a fist fight.”

                “You’re going to be fine,” Sunstreaker said, as reassuringly as possible. His optics roved over his brother’s form, looking for further wounds, and attempting to calm his own spark. There was no reason for this insidious fear that was crawling up Sunstreaker’s back struts; they’d long ago lost track of their many assorted injuries sustained during the fights. This was just one more. 

                “Yeah, I know,” Sideswipe said, patting Sunstreaker’s arm. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned that there was a large hole in his belly. “But he got away. Went out through the window. Jazz, do you…”

                “Already got someone on it,” Jazz said grimly, his blaster still in hand as his optics scanned the street below.

                “You think he was after Ratchet?” Sideswipe asked, trying to stand, but barely moving a few inches before wobbling and falling onto his aft.

                “Probably. I’d love to know how he got past us,” Jazz remarked, his mouth components twisted in anger.

                “What in the Pit happened!?” Ratchet demanded, rushing into the room. Both Sunstreaker and Jazz twitched at his sudden appearance. Sideswipe swayed where he sat as he turned to look at Ratchet.

                “Oh, good, you’re ok,” Sideswipe said, exventing a relieved sigh.

                Ratchet’s optics immediately went to the bright blue energon beginning to pool under Sideswipe’s hip.

                “Lie back,” Ratchet commanded, striding over and removing a box from his subspace. Sunstreaker recognized it as the travel medical kit that Ratchet kept on him at all times.

                “I’m fine!” Sideswipe protested even as Ratchet knelt on his other side and pushed on his shoulder. Sideswipe landed on the floor with an ungraceful flop.

                “No, you’re not,” Ratchet said, withdrawing tools from his kit. “You’re hemorrhaging too much Energon.  The shot must have torn through a big line.”

                Distantly, Sunstreaker was amazed and awed at how in control of the situation Ratchet appeared to be. Because Sunstreaker certainly didn’t feel in control; he felt impotent and useless as his brother slowly bled out in front of him.

                “Oh,” Sideswipe replied, optics slowly spiraling in and out and growing dimmer. “That why I feel so fuzzy?”

                “Yes. Jazz? Medical transport on its way?” Ratchet asked, indicating for Sunstreaker to move his hand.

                “About 5 minutes away. Anythin’ I can do to help?” Jazz asked.

                “You can provide some extra light. Sunstreaker, I need you to let me see.”

                Sunstreaker glanced down at his hand and back up at Ratchet. He wanted to speak, to ask if Sideswipe was going to be ok. But he couldn’t make his vocalizer work. For some reason, seeing the pool of Energon beneath Sideswipe now was so much worse than when they had been injured in their canine frames.

                Ratchet must have known what Sunstreaker was thinking. He reached up a hand and gripped Sunstreaker’s shoulder, squeezing tight once.

                “It’s a bad wound. But it’s fixable. I just need you to let me get to work.”

                “But he’s not a dog!” Sunstreaker blurted out.

                “Different anatomy, same concepts. Move your hand, Sunstreaker,” Ratchet instructed, his tone turning steely.

                Sunstreaker blinked as his arm automatically responded to the command and slid back into his own lap. More Energon welled up from the hole in Sideswipe’s belly as Jazz moved to stand over them, one headlight flicking on and shining down over Sideswipe’s frame.

                Sunstreaker shifted, moving to kneel by Sideswipe’s shoulders. He leaned over and peered into Sideswipe’s face, feeling flickers of pain along their bond as Sideswipe began losing control over his block.

                “Sideswipe? This is going to hurt a bit,” Ratchet warned, placing a hand on Sideswipe’s stomach, fingers bracketing one side of the wound. The other hand held a clamp above it, ready and waiting. “I don’t have time for a pain block.”

                “Yeah,” Sideswipe replied faintly, his optics locked trustingly on Sunstreaker’s. “That’s ok.”

                “I just have to get this line clamped off,” Ratchet muttered, plunging his fingers inside the wound. Sideswipe made a garbled sound at the intrusion, his hand whipping up to grasp Sunstreaker’s wrist in a vise-like grip.

                “Hold still, Red,” Ratchet warned, his hand nearly completely buried in Sideswipe’s abdomen.

                “Trying to,” Sideswipe replied through gritted denta. His optic shutters were clamped shut, but other than that, he didn’t even twitch as Ratchet’s hand twisted and slipped a centimeter deeper. Sunstreaker soothingly stroked a hand over Sideswipe’s cheekstrut, a subvocal croon emerging from his chassis. Silently, he urged Ratchet to work faster.

                “Ah ha!” Ratchet said triumphantly, the clamp sliding in alongside Ratchet’s hand. “Got it. There,” he said, removing his hand. “That’ll hold for a bit. Now, let’s get some pain meds into you.”

                “That’d be awesome,” Sideswipe murmured, burying his faceplates against Sunstreaker’s knee.

                “This feels a little too familiar, Sides,” Ratchet said softly as he removed a vial from his bag. He carefully injected a syringe and began drawing up the liquid that was inside the bottle. “You’re not even a week out from your last injury.”

                “I’m sorry. I had him though. Up until the blaster. Didn’t I, Jazz?” Sideswipe asked, the last few words slurring as Ratchet injected the medication into Sideswipe’s closest port.

                “That ya did, Siders,” Jazz said warmly. “Ya did real good.”

                “I totally… had… hmm…” Sideswipe said, trailing off. Sunstreaker experienced a spike of panic as his brother’s ventilations dramatically slowed, but he relaxed as he watched the lines of tension drain away from Sideswipe’s frame.

                “All right, he’s completely under now,” Ratchet said, sitting back on his heels. The vet made a motion to rub a hand over his faceplates, but Jazz stepped forward and grabbed his wrist. Ratchet looked up, startled, and then his optics widened at the copious amounts of Energon on his fingers.

                “Oh. Thanks,” Ratchet said, faintly.

                “You’re welcome. The paramedics just arrived. Why don’t ya take a sit down over here?” Jazz said, laying a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder.

                “No, no, I need to finish this. The clamp isn’t stable enough for transport; that line is too large,” Ratchet said, shaking his head and reaching back into his bag. He retrieved a spool of extra-fine cabling and a threading tool, dabbing at the wound with a cloth to soak up the energon that was obscuring his view. With a few quick motions, Ratchet placed several ligatures around the torn energon line and removed the clamp. He briefly monitored the site for further hemorrhaging.

                “That should keep until surgery,” Ratchet said.

                “He needs to have surgery?” Sunstreaker asked, absently stroking the sides of Sideswipe’s helm.

                “That line will need to be replaced. It help supplies the lower left side of his frame. It’s too big to leave ligated,” Ratchet explained. Sunstreaker nodded numbly, unable to keep from sending out tentative pulses across their bond. Each one bounced back silence, and it was making him feel hopelessly alone despite the warm plating beneath his hands.

                There was a knock on the door and as it slid aside, two smallish mechs with large bags in their hands walked into the apartment. They both had the identifying marks of paramedics, and Ratchet relaxed slightly at their appearance.  They immediately strode over, and Ratchet moved to stand. He swayed once he gained his feet, and Jazz steadied him. Sunstreaker wavered in place, concern for his guardian warring with protectiveness over his twin.

                “Sunstreaker,” Ratchet called, gesturing for him to stand. Sunstreaker glared at the nameless mechs but stood and moved to Ratchet’s side, subtly sliding a hand across Ratchet’s lower back. Ratchet leaned into the contact, vents hitching once before he drew himself up.

                “The left iliac line was nicked. I ligated it with 1-0 cable, 2 ligatures above, 2 below,” Ratchet offered.

                One of the mechs bent forward, examining the interior of the wound. “Looks good to me,” he said. “You a surgeon?”

                “Veterinary,” Ratchet replied. The two mechs exchanged a look before one of them glanced up, optics scanning Ratchet’s form. Sunstreaker shifted on his feet, disliking the assessing expression on the mech’s faceplates.

                “One of the best at the Veterinary Academy,” Jazz supplied, clapping Ratchet on his shoulder, and visor glinting with a warning.

                Both of the paramedics nodded and returned to assessing Sideswipe’s vital signs. “We’ll set up a transfusion and then get him ready for transport,” the senior paramedic said.

                “Huh. He’s just a youngling,” the junior medic said, after plugging into Sideswipe’s cervical medical port.

                “Yes. Mine,” Ratchet said, optics avidly watching every movement of the paramedics’ hands.

                “Would never have guessed from his size,” the junior medic commented. “You’ll be following us to the hospital, then?”

                Ratchet opened his lipplates and then slammed them shut after glancing up at Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker was confused until Ratchet spoke.

                “We’ll walk, so if you need any information now…”

                “No,” Sunstreaker interrupted. “Go with them,” he urged Ratchet, thinking how lost he would feel if he woke up in a strange place with unknown mechs surrounding him. “I’ll catch up with you.”

                “Ironhide just arrived. He’ll escort ya, Ratch. I’ll follow along with Sunny,” Jazz said. Ratchet looked from Jazz to Sunstreaker and then over at Sideswipe. He nodded slowly.

                “If you’re sure,” Ratchet said, meeting Sunstreaker’s optics.

                “He’ll need one of us there. And you can drive,” Sunstreaker replied, feeling a twist in his spark at his twin being taken away from him. But he trusted Ratchet implicitly when it came to his brother’s care.

                “We’re all set here,” the senior medic said, the two of them hefting Sideswipe aloft onto a stretcher. Ratchet reached out and threaded his fingers with Sunstreaker’s, squeezing once before breaking away to follow along behind the paramedics.

                Through the open doorway, Sunstreaker saw Ironhide sidestep the paramedics as they started down the stairs. He approached Ratchet as the vet moved out of the apartment. Ironhide stepped forward, hands gently landing on Ratchet’s shoulders. Sunstreaker’s optics spiraled outwards in surprise as Ratchet leaned forward and briefly rested his forehelm against Ironhide’s chest, his shoulders sagging. It was too far away to hear, especially with the clatter of the paramedics walking down the stairs, but Sunstreaker watched as they exchanged briefed words.

                Apparently interested in what had made Sunstreaker stiffen, Jazz leaned around him and peered into the hallway. Jazz watched for a moment and then snorted.

                “Huh. Shoulda seen that comin’,” Jazz said before turning back around to survey the apartment.

                “Seen what coming?” Sunstreaker asked, feeling his optic ridges furrow as Ironhide and Ratchet turned, starting down the stairs. When had Ratchet and Ironhide gotten so close?

                Jazz’s head whipped around, and he stared at Sunstreaker for a long moment. Then he grinned and shook his helm. “Uh uh. None of my business. Come on, my mech. Let’s clean up a bit, fix this window, and then be on our way.”

                “Is Ratchet going to be ok?” Sunstreaker asked as he moved to help Jazz. The Enforcer seemed pretty set on not supplying Sunstreaker with any answers which meant he would have to ask Ratchet directly. “I mean along the way? Ironhide is good, but…”

                “Blue’s on the rooftops, watchin’ their backs, and Hound is meetin’ them halfway. They should be all right.”

                “Who was this guy?” Sunstreaker asked. “How are you going to catch him?”

                “Not sure. But Mirage is trackin’ him now. No one gets away from ‘Raj, so we’ll find out soon.”

                Sunstreaker stood, gazing out of the broken window for several moments. He hoped that Mirage found the mech soon; he was going to rip him limb from limb for harming his twin.

\--

                Ratchet sat by Sideswipe’s berthside, counting ventilations. Each intake and outtake of air, each blip of a spark beat. And Ratchet despaired.

                The assassin hadn’t been there for Sideswipe or Sunstreaker. He had been there for Ratchet, and Sideswipe had gotten in the way. His youngling had blindly rushed into danger on Ratchet’s behalf and had almost gotten himself offlined. And if Sideswipe’s spark failed, Ratchet had no illusions that Sunstreaker wouldn’t follow his twin.

                Ratcet had already been visited by an anonymous member of the Youngling Protection Services inquiring into the matter, likely alerted by the hospital staff. Ratchet didn’t blame any of them; they were only concerned with the twins’ health and wellbeing.

                The agent hadn’t stayed long; Ironhide’s looming and disapproving presence had made sure of that.

                But doubt had set in. Ratchet was an indirect danger to the twins. The longer they stayed with him, the more danger they would be in.

                Ratchet’s optics rose from Sideswipe’s serene faceplates to alight upon Sunstreaker’s, the yellow twin curled as close as possible to his brother on Sideswipe’s opposite side. The attending surgeon had frowned when he had come to check in on Sideswipe postop and seen Sunstreaker stretched out alongside his patient. But then he had sighed and smiled ruefully before leaving with a muttered ‘twins!’.

                Ratchet had taken an immediate liking to the elderly surgeon; he had been direct and through, an approach that Ratchet himself was well known for. The compliment Ratchet had been paid for his quick thinking and neat work hadn’t hurt either.

                The surgeon, Clamper, had told him that if Ratchet had waited but five minutes longer, Sideswipe would have bled out. All and all, the surgical repair had been quick and easy, but the knowledge that if Ratchet hadn’t been there… Ratchet shuddered to think of it.

                “Stop it,” a deep voice commanded from behind Ratchet. He startled out of his thoughts, turning and looking at the dark Enforcer standing in the corner. Ironhide had been largely silent after asking Ratchet if he had been hurt. The Enforcer had been Ratchet’s watchful shadow as he had followed the paramedics to the hospital. Ratchet supposed he should have been more worried about another assassin, but at the time he hadn’t cared. He had wanted his youngling seen to, wanted to see that bright, infectious grin flash over Sideswipe faceplate’s once more.

                “Stop what?” Ratchet asked.

                “Yer thinkin’ so hard, yer processor’s smokin’,” Ironhide replied. “Wasn’t yer fault.”

                “Not directly, no,” Ratchet said. “But that mech was there for me, wasn’t he?”

                Ironhide cast his optics to the side and shifted in place. “Probably. Twins saved yer life.”

                “They’re not supposed to!” Ratchet burst out, fully turning on his stool to address Ironhide. “They’re supposed to watch movies and prank the building, not play guard on me every hour of the day! I just want them to be younglings!”

                “They are, and they ain’t,” Ironhide said. “If they lived out in some of the border cities, they’d be working full hours and probably have sparklings of their own at this age.”

                “But they’re here!” Ratchet returned. “And they’ve never had the chance to be sparklings. I just wanted to give them that.”

                “Ya have, Ratch. But nothin’ ya do is going to make them forget what they’ve learned in the rings. And they love ya too much to just stand back and let someone else fight for ya.”

                Ratchet shook his head, looking back to Sideswipe’s still form. “He almost died,” he whispered. “Even if YPS doesn’t take them away from me, how can I, in good conscience, continue to put them in danger?”

                “That afthead TopNotch’s goin’ to jail permanent,” Ironhide said, waving a hand through the air. “Yer lawyer’s good. And with Sideswipe gettin’ hurt so close to the trial, jury’s goin’ to believe every word ya say.”

                “And what’s to keep him from doing the same thing that he’s doing now? Hiring mechs to do his dirty work?” Ratchet spat.

                “Prowl will figure out something,” a new voice said.

                Ratchet’s helm whipped around to see Sunstreaker’s optics gazing at Ratchet. He instantly felt horrible that their raised voices had awoken the tired youngling.

                “I’m sorry, Sunny,” Ratchet said. He reached over Sideswipe and cuped Sunstreaker’s cheek strut. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

                “It’s all right. “Sides’ pain meds are wearing off so he’s starting to come out of stasis,” Sunstreaker reported, his bond with his twin giving him more insight than any doctor or medic could ever have.

                “He wasn’t supposed to wake up for several hours yet,” Ratchet said, his optics raking over the orders sitting on a data pad at the head of the berth.

                “Our systems burn through pain meds faster than most other mechs.”

                “I’ll call the nurse.”

                “Don’t worry about it,” Sunstreaker said as Ratchet rose from his chair. “Compared to his leg, this isn’t that bad. And you know how loopy the meds make him.”

                “He still shouldn’t be in pain,” Ratchet said, fretting. He was distracted, though, as Sideswipe twitched on the berth, a murmur escaping him.

                “No,” Sunstreaker agreed, “but we can’t afford to have our reflexes dulled by drugs, either. Not if the fraggers are going to start coming into our home.”

                Ratchet looked up sharply. “We’ll talk about that later.”

                Sunstreaker sat up and rolled his head around, neck cables stretching to relieve the tension created by the awkward position he had been lying in. “No. We’ll talk about it now.”

                Rearing back in surprise at Sunstreaker’s firm tone, Ratchet glanced over his shoulder to see Ironhide looking at the yellow twin with an assessing expression.

                “We’re going to keep training with Ironhide, as long as he’s willing,” Sunstreaker stated, his optics flicking up to glance at the Enforcer.

                “I’m willin’,” Ironhide rumbled.

                Ratchet looked from Ironhide to Sunstreaker and back with wide optics and a dropped open jaw. “What? No, I…”

                “We’re going to keep training,” Sunstreaker reiterated with narrowed optics, “so we can protect you _and_ ourselves. Because we’re not leaving you, and you’re not giving us up. No matter what happens with TopNotch, we’ll work through it together.”

                “I… I told you…”

                “I know what you told us,” Sunstreaker said. “But that was before that mech came after you. Now, things have changed.”

                Ratchet stared at his youngling, flabbergasted. “But… you…”

                “Think ya better listen to the bitlet,” Ironhide said, amusement evident in his tone. “He sounds pretty set on it.”

                Ratchet ducked his head, processor awhirl. “I’ll think about it,” he said faintly. “But I still don’t see how this will help anything. TopNotch is still going to send hired mechs after us.”

                “Like I said, Prowl will come up with a plan. Have an informant in jail, or something. He seems good at coming up with plans,” Sunstreaker said with a faint smile.

                “He _is_ pretty good with the ideas,” Ironhide added.

                Ratchet looked back up, staring into Sunstreaker’s determined and earnest optics. His youngling sounded so certain… it would be so easy to latch onto that quiet confidence.

                “I want you both to be safe and happy,” Ratchet finally said, knowing when he was beat. “That’s all I want.”

                Sunstreaker leaned forward, return stare intense. “We never knew what it was to _be_ happy until we met you, Ratchet,” he said, quietly. “And as to being safe… well, me and Sides, we’re built for unsafe. It’s all good.”

                Before Ratchet could reply to that heartfelt admission, Sideswipe moaned quietly and shifted on the berth.

                “Ugh,” he muttered. “Did Ironhide throw me against the wall again?”

                Sunstreaker chuckled even as Ratchet sat up straight and glared at Ironhide, his finger jabbing through the air in silent accusation.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet finds a release and Sideswipe sees something he shouldn't   
> NC17 this chapter!

                Ratchet arched his back as Ironhide bottomed out, a strangled groan emerging from both of them almost simultaneously. Ironhide paused to give Ratchet a shaky grin before withdrawing and smoothly sliding forward again. His spike seemed to ride over every single node in Ratchet’s valve, and his optic shutters reflexively slipped shut as pleasure began building.

 

                Sideswipe had been discharged from the hospital twenty-four hours after his surgery. Ratchet and Sunstreaker had spent nearly the entire time by Sideswipe’s berthside, Ratchet leaving only long enough to fetch energon for them both. Fortunately, the day after the assassination attempt had already been Ratchet’s day off. Both Optimus and the Academy president had offered Ratchet additional time off, but Ratchet had reluctantly declined.

                He desperately wanted to spend more time with Sideswipe as he recovered, but Ratchet didn’t want to fall further behind in his studies. In addition, he felt obligated to the Enforcers who were doing so much to help them. Sideswipe had pouted at first, but had quickly reassured Ratchet that he and Sunstreaker would be fine, especially since his physical activities had once more been restricted. Smokescreen had already volunteered his services for additional tutoring sessions, much to Sideswipe’s dismay.

                After the transport home from the hospital, Ratchet had directed the twins to their berth. Sideswipe had looked weary, both from the physical exertion of walking up the stairs and from the sedative effect of the pain medications. Sunstreaker had been seemingly irritated with the whole world, even going so far as to snap at Ratchet at one point. Once they had entered the building, and Sideswipe had slipped into recharge, Ratchet has realized one of the reasons for Sunstreaker’s ire as the golden twin quickly disappeared into the washracks.

                Ratchet had just finished straightening his desk when Sunstreaker had walked back in, armor gleaming once more. Sunstreaker had walked over to Ratchet, leaned into his space and pressed his forehelm against Ratchet’s shoulder for a long moment. Not speaking, Ratchet had reached up and cupped the side of Sunstreaker’s neck.

                “Sorry,” Sunstreaker had muttered.

                “It’s ok,” Ratchet had murmured back. “Feel better?”

                “Mmm. Yeah. Get some recharge soon, all right? Jazz said that Hound, Mirage, and Bluestreak would be doing patrols in and around the building all night, but you know where Sides and I are if you need us,” Sunstreaker had said as he drew away.

                Ratchet had raised an orbital ridge, smiling at him in bemusement. It seemed that the twins would never give up on the urge to protect him. “And you know where I’ll be if _you_ need _me_.”

 

                He feels guilty about that now. If either of the twins woke up and went to his room they would find it empty. He had left a data pad hanging in plain sight on his door indicating that he was still in the building and not to worry. He hoped it was enough, but he had had to get out of the apartment, had to stop his processor from its endless loop of worry and anxiety.

                And so his feet had brought him here, to Ironhide’s door and his berth. Ironhide had let him in without comment after Ratchet’s knock.  Had borne Ratchet to the berth surface with soothing strokes in response to Ratchet’s whispered ‘please’. The strokes had soon turned insistent, Ironhide feeding off Ratchet’s rising urgency.

                It hadn’t taken long for Ratchet’s thighs to spread and for Ironhide to settle between them, the head of his spike slipping in the lubricant pooling at Ratchet’s entrance. And then Ironhide was deep inside Ratchet, his processor slowly falling quiet as pleasure swept through his frame.

                Ironhide braced himself on the palms of his hands, leaning back enough so that his spike pushed fractionally deeper on the next stroke. Ratchet gripped Ironhide’s hips with his knees and clawed at Ironhide’s back with every rough thrust. Primus, he had missed this!

                He still kept his comms on, a small part of him always attuned to the twins curled around each other across the hall. But the majority of his processor was mercifully, _finally_ , blank. The worries and doubts crumbled and fell away beneath the pounding of Ironhide’s spike. And when overload came, Ratchet plunged headfirst into its accompanying oblivion without any reservations.

\--

                Sideswipe groaned and rolled over, a dull stab of pain shooting through him from his injured side. Unable to sustain his recharge protocols due to the nagging ache, Sideswipe opened his optics and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Checking his chronometer, he realized it was almost their normal wake time.

                Turning his head, Sideswipe gazed upon his brother’s faceplates, still slack with recharge. Even now, Sideswipe could feel echoes of worry and weariness from his twin. No one had told him so directly, but he had gathered enough cues from Ratchet and the hospital staff to deduce that his wound would have been fatal if they had waited for the paramedics; Ratchet had saved his life.

                This was twice now. The last injury from the ring would have resulted in offlining eventually, even if TopNotch hadn’t ordered his death. Sideswipe had built up quite a debt to his guardian, one that he intended to pay in full.

                Stretching carefully, Sideswipe sat up, his optics catching the sheen of Sunstreaker’s fresh wax job. Now that he thought about it, a quick wash up sounded great. It had seemed like hundreds of different doctors and nurses had touched him while in the hospital; normally, he loved to be cuddled, but their touches had just reminded him of why he had been there in the first place.

                Sideswipe gingerly removed himself from the berth, being extra careful to not jostle Sunstreaker. Both to avoid scratches and also to give his exhausted brother as much chance as possible to rest. He stumbled a little on his first step, wincing.

                His processor was still muzzy from the last dose of painkillers. His stabilizers felt just slightly off, and his optics wouldn’t quite focus properly. Well, he was upright enough to walk to the door and through it, and if he bumped into the doorway leading to the common room, no one was awake to see it.

                He continued on his drunken way across the common room floor, one hand continually rubbing at his optics while the other subconsciously pressed against the healing mesh of his abdominal wound. He briefly thought about calling for Sunstreaker to help him and then discarded the thought; Sideswipe could manage on his own if he were careful.

                And so every step across outside of the apartment was measured and slow. When he arrived at the washroom door, he stared at it with a hazy glee, inordinately proud with himself. And then a small part of him voiced the thought that maybe painkillers and he didn’t mix well.

                Vowing to speak to Ratchet about the issue, Sideswipe opened the washrack door.

\--

                Sunstreaker jerked out of recharge so quickly that he rolled off the berth and crashed to the floor. For several moments, he stared sightlessly at the far wall, attempting to orientate himself. It was incredibly difficult to do, inundated as he was with blinding emotions that he finally identified as Sideswipe’s. There were so many and so strong, but soon, a few became more prevalent than others: betrayal, hurt, and fury. Pure, unadultered _fury_.

                Sideswipe got angry, sure. He got annoyed and exasperated, but never before had Sunstreaker felt such _rage_ emanating from his brother. Underneath it all was a demand and a call for the second half of his spark; it was too strong for Sunstreaker to even think about resisting.

                It was an easy call to follow. Out of their room, out of the apartment, until Sunstreaker stood on the landing and looked about, feeling Sideswipe’s wrath and not knowing where to turn next. He felt blind and deaf, numb to everything but _hatehatehate_.

                He didn’t have to seek out his brother much longer; Sideswipe came to him.

                The washrack door flew open and a tumble of frames followed, water and solvent suds flying everywhere, almost in slow motion. The bodies hit the ground, and one mech rolled to the side. Sunstreaker watched in stunned surprise as Ratchet leveraged himself to his feet and opened his mouth.

                Sound suddenly rushed back in, and Sunstreaker reflexively flinched. Ratchet was cursing: angry, heavy words with a thick undercurrent of fear. He didn’t even notice Sunstreaker standing a few feet away. Ratche’s sole attention was on the two frames still on the ground, grappling and tearing at one another.

                Sunstreaker realized that one of them was Ironhide as the large mech roared and twisted, forcing Sideswipe’s canine form away long enough to move onto his knees. The big Enforcer was cursing as well, deep, feral sounds that would have raised Sunstreaker’s hackles if he had been in his third form too.

                Energon flowed down Ironhide’s upper arm from a deep tear in the armor there. Sunstreaker had seen enough of his and his twin’s handiwork to recognize it as a wound induced by their teeth.

                Now that Sunstreaker knew to look for them, he spied several more wounds decorating Ironhide’s frame. The tears and punctures were strategically placed: located near major energon lines or weight bearing cables. Sideswipe had been aiming to maim, or more likely, kill. Ironhide was certainly good to have lasted this far against the silent ball of fury that was Sideswipe.

                Gathering his feet beneath him, Sideswipe leapt, darting to the side at the last minute and whipping his head around to tear into the back of Ironhide’s thigh. The red dog was completely oblivious to anything else but destruction; Sunstreaker could feel his brother’s intentions, but he didn’t know why. Sideswipe wouldn’t answer his hails, only continually and mindlessly pulsed out demands that Sunstreaker join in.

                Sunstreaker’s spark and processor was waging an internal battle: the instinctive need to back his brother… versus the strut-deep imperative to obey his Caretaker.

                Ratchet was still yelling, alternatively commanding and pleading the combatants to stop. He was sounding more panicked by the second, rocking on his feet and obviously indecisive about wading into the fight. 

                It was Ratchet’s panic and the possibility that he might get accidently hurt by attempting to physically stop the fight that brought Sunstreaker out of his fugue state. He took a step forward, intending on grabbing Sideswipe and pulling him back.

                Ratchet finally caught sight of Sunstreaker and waved him away. “Sunstreaker, no! Stay out of it!”

                “Sides is gonna kill him,” Sunstreaker said grimly, his optics tracking the movements of the two combatants, seeking an opening.

                “Not today,” Ironhide growled, his fist lashing out. The punch landed just shy of Sideswipe’s healing wound, and the dog stumbled, a warbling cry emerging from him.

                Ironhide shot to his feet, pressing his advantage. “You little piece of slag,” he spat.

                A well aimed kick to the left hip made Sideswipe yip in pain as that leg lost purchase on the floor. Ironhide’s fists and feet flew, landing hit after hit. Sideswipe viciously fought back, claws and teeth slashing and tearing anytime Ironhide came close. Sideswipe’s optics were blown wide and white in battle lust. His entire focus was on ripping Ironhide to pieces even though it was quickly becoming obvious that Ironhide had gained the upper hand now that he had more room to maneuver.

                “Stop it, stop it, both of you! Please!” Ratchet cried as Sideswipe’s left rear leg finally gave out, tucked up tight against his belly. “Ironhide, that’s enough!”

                “Gotta put him down for good,” Ironhide snarled. He punched the side of Sideswipe’s faceplates, a daring move. But he made contact, and a loud crack was heard as Sideswipe staggered, disorientated.

                Another punch, and Sideswipe collapsed to the ground completely, legs splayed. He panted, too fast, harsh ventilations as he stared up at Ironhide with raised lipplates. Ironhide stepped forward and Sideswipe lashed out with a front paw, scoring a lucky hit that brought Ironhide down to one knee and toppling Sideswipe onto his side. Roaring in pain and anger, Ironhide raised a fist again.

                Snarling, Sunstreaker stepped forward, intent on tackling Ironhide. The mech was allowed self-defense, but Sideswipe was down and out, unable to do much but scrabble his feet against the floor. He was scored with dents and the mesh covering his blaster wound was torn and freely bleeding once more. Sunstreaker wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , allow Ironhide to continue any further.

                Sunstreaker stilled, however, when Ironhide suddenly stiffened, his head rising at an unnatural angle. It was being forced up by a long, vibrating strut saw, held against the vulnerable point of Ironhide’s throat… by Ratchet.

                “If you touch him… one more time… I will not hesitate to cut your head from your shoulders,” Ratchet said. Ratchet’s dark, heavy tone sent shivers up Sunstreaker’s backstruts; Ratchet’s optics were icy blue with resolve as they stared down into Ironhide’s faceplates.

                Before Ironhide could reply, another voice spoke up, startling Sunstreaker so badly that he physically jumped. He looked over his shoulder, and his ventilations caught.

                “I think that that is quite enough,” Prowl said, standing just steps above the third floor landing. A rifle was in his hands, the end of which was trained quite steadily on the trio of fighters. In the next moment, Prowl fired. A bolt of energy washed over the three mechs, and they instantly slumped in place, Ratchet’s strut saw powering down with an unhappy whine.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet has some 'splaining to do and several seeds are planted

                “No!” Sunstreaker shrieked as his twin bond instantly quieted, and the life drained out of Ratchet’s optics. He whirled to face Prowl with a snarl and clenched fists.

                “Stop!” Prowl commanded, lowering the rifle and raising his hand as Sunstreaker strode forward, intent on ripping something apart. Prowl seemed as good a target as any.

                But Prowl didn’t back down, nor did he offer any more threat of violence. “It is stun only, Sunstreaker,” Prowl said. “They will awaken in a few minutes.”

                Sunstreaker vibrated with repressed anger, optics boring into Prowl’s. The Enforcer stared back, calm and composed in the face of Sunstreaker’s fury. In the back of his processor, Sunstreaker realized that Bluestreak was several steps above Prowl, optics wide and sensory panels fluttering wildly.

                “Just stun?” he asked, resolutely forcing away his ire. Prowl had done a lot for the three of them; it made sense that he wouldn’t want to harm them.

                “Yes. For long enough to let systems cool and processors to reboot. Do you know what happened here? We heard shouting and came down in time to see Ratchet threaten Ironhide,” Prowl said, Sunstreaker backing up to let Prowl and Bluestreak descend the last few steps.

                Sunstreaker bristled. “Ironhide was going too far. Sides was down; he didn’t have to keep hitting him,” he muttered defensively.

                “Why was Ironhide hitting Sideswipe? Who instigated?” Prowl asked, Bluestreak helping him as they laid Ironhide flat out on the floor, examining him for injuries. Sunstreaker did the same for Ratchet, quickly scanning him before moving on to his brother.

                Sunstreaker frowned. “I’m not sure. I was recharging, and Sideswipe called out for me. He was fragged off at Ironhide; I’ve never felt him so angry before. I don’t even know why he was out here. He was supposed to be resting,” he said. He looked down helplessly at Sideswipe’s many dents and wondered what in the Pit had been going on in his twin’s processor.

                “The only logical explanation is that Sideswipe perceived Ironhide was harming Ratchet. Whether or not that was true remains to be seen. I assume Sideswipe is still medicated for pain?” Prowl asked.

                Sunstreaker nodded slowly. “Yeah. He doesn’t do well with that stuff. Messes with his processor. Maybe made him see something that wasn’t really there?”

                “Hmm,” Prowl hummed thoughtfully. “How is he?”

                “Nothing fatal. I think the blaster shot is going to have to be repatched though,” he said. “And I think the stun is starting to fade,” Sunstreaker mentioned, feeling the first stirrings of hazy confusion along their bond.

                “Ratchet appears unharmed as well. Sunstreaker...”

                Sunstreaker looked up as Prowl paused. The Enforcer was staring at him with a serious expression.

                “What?” he asked testily, having a feeling he wasn’t going to like what Prowl was about to say.

                “Sideswipe cannot be allowed to act as he was. Will you restrain him if need be?”

                “If you restrain Ironhide,” Sunstreaker retorted, his chin jerking up to point at the sprawled out form of the big, black mech.

                “What about Ratchet?” Bluestreak asked, carefully placing Ratchet’s strut saw on the floor off to the side. He placed a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder, and Sunstreaker growled, the sound rumbling up from deep in his chassis.

                “Get. Your. Hands. Off him,” he spat. Bluestreak rapidly blinked his optics, and his hand shot up as if he had placed it in acid. Then he guiltily looked at Prowl.

                “I’m sure Ratchet will be fine,” Prowl said, looking reassuringly at first Bluestreak and then Sunstreaker.

                All of a sudden, Sideswipe sat straight up, optics wide as his head whipped around wildly. Sunstreaker threw himself on top of his brother and pulsed feelings of calm and reassurance along their bond.

                “You’re fine,” he whispered into Sideswipe’s twitching audio. “I’m here; you’re fine.”

                Slowly, Sideswipe’s tense cables relaxed as awareness crept back into his processor. He whined lowly, a wordless protest about Sunstreaker’s weight on top of an already sore body. Sunstreaker pushed himself off his brother, watching Sideswipe carefully for any tricks. But Sideswipe merely hauled himself to his feet, almost immediately sitting back on to his haunches with a pained cry. He turned his head and feebly licked at the seeping side wound, whimpering when Sunstreaker pushed him away. 

                “Sideswipe?” Prowl asked, crouching over the still form of Ironhide. “Are you cognizant now?”

                _What in the Pit does ‘cognizant’ mean?_ Sideswipe asked Sunstreaker, quizzically tilting his head to stare at Prowl. Then he caught sight of Ratchet lying prone a few feet away. He shot to his feet once more, forward motion halted by Sunstreaker’s arms around his neck. _What happened to Ratchet?!_

                “It means ‘in your right processor’. And Ratchet is fine. Do you remember what happened?” Sunstreaker asked.

                “Could he transform? It would be easier for us to speak together,” Prowl asked, one hand now lying uncomfortably close to his rifle.

                In answer, Sideswipe twisted within the circle of Sunstreaker’s arms and folded out of his canine form. He ended up on one knee, vents wide as he sucked in air, panting. Sunstreaker kept his arms around Sideswipe’s waist, both for support and to restrain him if need be.

                “Ow,” Sideswipe said succinctly, one hand pressing against the torn mesh over his belly wound. Sunstreaker felt his brother’s processor sluggishly fighting off the haze of the pain meds and the after-effects of the stun rifle. Files began clicking into place, one after another.

                “I don’t really rememb...” Then Sideswipe finally located the memory of the event that had sent him off. He stiffened with a growl and sent the file to Sunstreaker, who reeled as overwhelming emotion once again assaulted his senses. 

                Sideswipe, full of accomplishment at managing the walk through the apartment by himself... yearning to be clean... walking through the wash rack door and hearing a cry... looking up to see Ratchet pinned against the wall, struggling with his arms held above his head... Ironhide pressed up against Ratchet, faceplates buried in the underside of Ratchet’s throat... and Sideswipe being overcome by fear for Ratchet, rage against Ratchet’s attacker, betrayal that it was someone they had come to trust...

                Sunstreaker blinked and fell out of the memory, gaze landing on Ironhide. His first instinct was to leap across the space between them and plunge his hand into Ironhide’s chest cavity to rip out his spark. But then Sunstreaker’s processor brought forward a memory in response to Sidsewipe’s; it was of a few hours ago, of Ratchet trustingly leaning against Ironhide as the paramedics took Sideswipe away. Sunstreaker flung the file at Sideswipe and continued to hold on as his brother trembled in remembered rage.

                “I think... I don’t think he was attacking Ratchet, Sides,” he told his brother, something deep inside his spark twisting at the admission.

                “He was hurting him!” Sideswipe insisted, glaring intently at Ironhide.

                “I’m not so sure,” Sunstreaker said. “Let’s just… let’s just hear what he has to say when he wakes up, all right? Since when do you go off half cocked like that?” Sunstreaker chided. “I didn’t have your back.”

                “I didn’t have time to wait,” Sideswipe said, settling back onto his knees and glancing from Ironhide to Ratchet and back. His frame was practically vibrating with tension, but now doubt was starting to enter his processor; Sunstreaker could feel it along their flung open link.

                “I can’t believe you took on Ironhide by yourself, Sides!” Bluestreak exclaimed. “He’s so tough!”

                Sideswipe glanced at the sharpshooter, optics rapidly blinking as if taking in his appearance for the first time. He took in the miniscule space between Bluestreak and Ratchet, but obviously trusted the mechling more than Sunstreaker since he didn’t react negatively.

                 “Not _that_ tough. Fragged him up, didn’t I?” Sideswipe bragged.

                Prowl ignored the boast and turned to Sunstreaker. He hand was now at a much more comfortable distance away from his weapon. “Will you please take Sideswipe into the apartment? Do your best to attend to his wounds until Ratchet awakens. Bluestreak will assist you.”

                Sunstreaker nodded, albeit reluctantly.

                “I’m not leaving,” Sideswipe protested, struggling against Sunstreaker’s grip as he hauled Sideswipe to his feet.

                “The door will be open,” Prowl said. “I will keep your guardian safe.”

                Sideswipe glanced from Prowl and then Sunstreaker. “You promise?” Sideswipe asked, already sagging against Sunstreaker in resignation.

                “I vow it on Bluestreak’s spark,” Prowl replied, prompting Sunstreaker’s optics to widen in surprise; Prowl valued his cousin too much to make light of such a declaration. Sunstreaker wasn’t one to trust easily, but Prowl had always seemed to have their best interests in mind. Sideswipe must have come to the same realization; he nodded and allowed Sunstreaker to turn him around.

                “Come on, let’s go,” Sunstreaker muttered. He propped himself up under Sideswipe’s arm and carefully guided him inside the apartment. Bluestreak followed, annoyingly close behind. To give the sharpshooter something to do, Sunstreaker gestured to Bluestreak to bring over the pillows and bedding. As soon as he did, Sunstreaker pushed his brother down onto the pile, ensuring Sideswipe had a clear view of the doorway.

                “What was Ironhide doing to Ratchet?” Bluestreak asked, voice lowering as he knelt on Sideswipe’s right side. He pulled out a small first aid kit from subspace and opened it. It was nothing as extensive as Ratchet’s, but did have some cleaning clothes and disinfectants. He handed some of it to Sunstreaker and together they bent to the task of cleaning Sideswipe’s more superficial wounds. His blaster shot had stopped bleeding, so Sunstreaker deemed it safe enough to leave until Ratchet woke.

                “He had Ratchet pinned against the wall,” Sideswipe replied, wincing as Sunstreaker dabbed at the large dent over the arch of Sideswipe’s left cheek. Sunstreaker suspected the strut beneath was fractured, judging by the subtle grinding he heard every time Sideswipe spoke.

                “How many times have I pinned you against the wall?” Sunstreaker asked, his thumb tracing the delicate plating beneath Sideswipe’s optic that still sluggishly oozed energon.

                Sideswipe jerked beneath Sunstreaker’s touch, and their gazes locked as Sideswipe’s optics widened. He helplessly emitted a confusing ball of _disbeliefjealousylovemineminemine_ along their bond. Sunstreaker winced; their link was still raw. Every emotion seemed ten times more powerful than normal, especially with Sideswipe apparently uninhibited by his pain medications.

                “Ironhide?” Sideswipe choked out.

                Sunstreaker shrugged, feeling a bad taste in his intake, almost as if he were about to purge his tanks. “I’m sure we’re not the only ones who’ve discovered interfacing, Sides.”

                “But _Ironhide_? Why _him_?” Sideswipe exclaimed, the volume of his voice rising. Bluestreak was leaning away from Sideswipe, optics flicking uncertainly between the two brothers. Sunstreaker glared at him, and Bluestreak ducked his head, quietly wiping away some energon on Sideswipe’s upper arm.

                “Why not?” Sunstreaker retorted, fingers probing a dent on Sideswipe’s thigh probably a little harder than necessary.

                He wished Sideswipe would shut up; Sunstreaker didn’t need his twin’s questions on top of his own. Why Ironhide, indeed? He liked Ironhide; he seemed like a good mech. So why did the thought of Ironhide and Ratchet together make him alternately want to snarl and howl with despair?

                _Because he’s not_ us. The whispered words reverberated across their spark, and Sunstreaker stilled, his ventilations catching. Before Sunstreaker could devote any processing power to that line of code, or even where exactly it had originated, they heard Ratchet’s voice in the hallway.

                “No, I’m fine. I don’t need your help, thank you very much, Prowl.” Ratchet’s cross tones floated in to reach their audios, and both of them relaxed fractionally. Sunstreaker watched as Ratchet brushed off Prowl’s hands and stood, moving out of the view of the doorway. “What… why is…”

                There was a long pause, and then a startled exclamation.

                “Sideswipe! Where’s…!”

                “In here!” Sunstreaker called out. A small, petty part of him smirked as Ratchet stepped over Ironhide’s form without a glance to run into the apartment. Bluestreak swiftly stood, allowing Ratchet to drop into his place, hands instantly roaming over Sideswipe’s frame.

                “Are you hurt? I swear to Primus, if he hurt you, they won’t be able to find all the pieces,” Ratchet swore, digits gentle despite the angry tone.

                “I’m fine,” Sideswipe replied, a low whine emerging from the back of his vocalizer. He pushed into Ratchet’s touch, a burst of _minemineloveminelovelove_ flaring up over their link _._ Sunstreaker shoved back against the overwhelming outpouring of emotions, and they lessened to a more manageable background level. Sideswipe shot him an apologetic glance.

                “You are _not_ fine,” Ratchet said, finding several wounds that Bluestreak and Sunstreaker hadn’t attended to yet. He produced a gravely, angry sound when he discovered the cheek strut. “What were you _thinking_?” he asked, tone exasperated. “What in the Pit were you thinking, Sideswipe?”

                Sideswipe stilled and then drew back, capturing Ratchet’s hands with his own. His optics searched Ratchet’s faceplates. “He was hurting you. Wasn’t he?” he asked softly. Sunstreaker didn’t know if Ratchet could hear the subtle pleading in Sideswipe’s tone, but Sunstreaker did. His spark sunk as he watched Ratchet’s faceplates shift.

                Ratchet’s expression turned guilty. “No! I… we…” Ratchet vented loudly. “I meant to tell you! I tried… I kept trying to tell you, but we always got interrupted.”

                “So you and… and Ironhide?” Sideswipe asked, struggling to get the designation out.

                “Bluestreak,” Prowl called softly from the doorway. “Come. This is a private discussion, and we should tend to Ironhide.”

                Sunstreaker’s optics canted to the side to see Ironhide leveraging himself up, swaying drunkenly and muttering to himself. Bluestreak nodded and scurried out into the hallway, Prowl sliding the door closed with a soft click. Sunstreaker turned his attention back to Sideswipe and Ratchet.

                “It was just a few times, Red,” Ratchet said, removing his hand from Sideswipe’s and attempting to touch Sideswipe’s shoulder. Sideswipe flinched back, optics still wide.

                “Don’t…” Ratchet sighed. “Don’t do that, Sideswipe.”

                “But why?!” Sideswipe burst out. “Don’t you want us anymore? Don’t you love us?!”

                “It has nothing to do with how I feel about you two!” Ratchet said, throwing his hands up into the air. “When are you going to get that I love you and nothing is going to change that?!”

                “You were talking with Ironhide about giving us up. At the hospital,” Sunstreaker said quietly, remembering the heated words between the two mechs. Ratchet turned and glared at him.

                “Yes, I was,” Ratchet admitted, optics shooting to Sideswipe as he made a choked sound. “But it wasn’t because I didn’t want you anymore; it was because I wanted you safe. I wanted you happy. You are obviously not safe here with me,” he said, gesturing to the multitude of wounds decorating Sideswipe’s frame.

                “He was hurting you!” Sideswipe stubbornly repeated.

                “He wasn’t hurting me, Sides. He was about to ‘face me through the wall if you hadn’t interrupted!” Ratchet shouted. “I’m only a mech! I have needs, too, and Ironhide was happy to help me with them. It was consensual, and good, and I’m not going to apologize for it!” he finished, optics blazing and fans working overtime.

                Sunstreaker looked at Ratchet with surprised optics as Sideswipe shrank back. “Why can’t you just be happy with us?” he asked in a miserable whisper. Sunstreaker’s spark twisted in sympathy; it was a question he had been asking himself as well.

                Ratchet abruptly slumped. “Sideswipe,” he said tiredly. “I _am_ happy with you two. I never knew what it was to love a mech like I do you. Even though I’ve considered giving you up, for your own safety, mind you, I probably never would. I’m too selfish,” Ratchet said with a shake of his head. “I’m always going to keep you two by my side. Ironhide is a temporary thing; a bit of a stress reliever, that’s all.”

                “You don’t need Ironhide. We could…” Sideswipe began, and Sunstreaker stared at his twin, incredulous. Was he really offering…?

                Sunstreaker tilted his head to the side and looked at Ratchet, considering. He had never thought of Ratchet as anything more than their caretaker, their savior. They already loved him for the safety, care, and love he gave them. Could that love deepen, morph into something else?

                “Shut your vocalizer,” Ratchet snapped.

                “I was just...”

                “I know what you were just about to say,” Ratchet retorted, optics once again flashing. “I am not interested in you two like that. Not one iota. And even if I were, you’re too young.”

                “We’re not that far off majority age,” Sideswipe said slowly. His faceplates were twisted in a confused expression, almost as he was surprised by his own offer. He shot a glance at Sunstreaker, optics questioning. Sunstreaker shrugged minutely; the seed of the idea had been planted, but he still hadn’t a clue how he felt about it.

                Mercurial as always, Sideswipe’s mood abruptly shifted into one that was more jovial. “Don’t you think we’re pretty?” he asked, blinking coyly up at Ratchet, small grin beginning to form. His shoulders unhunched, and he unconsciously leaned forward, back into Ratchet’s space.

                Ratchet’s optics narrowed. “Not right now, you’re not,” he said, flicking out a finger against Sideswipe’s cheek strut. He winced, but the smile continued to grow.

                “Ah, but that means that other times you think we are!” he exclaimed triumphantly.

                Sighing, Ratchet shook his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he said softly, leaning forward and tugging Sideswipe against his chest. Blindly, Ratchet reached out a hand and snagged Sunstreaker’s arm, pulling him into the embrace as well. Sunstreaker allowed the hug, but some small part of him kept distant. Ratchet had kept something from them, something big. Would they still be able to trust him implicitly as they had before?

                “I’m sorry you had to find out like this. I truly did mean to tell you that Ironhide and I were starting a relationship. And I’d like to continue it, even if it’s only physical. I’m not asking your permission, however,” Ratchet murmured.

                “You think he’s still going to want you? You did have a saw to this throat,” Sunstreaker pointed out, sliding out of Ratchet’s hold and sitting back on his knees. He kind of hoped that the blade to the neck incident would make Ironhide want to stay far away from Ratchet.

                Ratchet drew back, making a disgruntled sound. “I did, didn’t it? Slag. I’m going to have to apologize. Told you I had a temper, didn’t I?” he said wryly.

                He turned his attention down to Sideswipe who was still snuggled against Ratchet’s chestplates. “You too, Red.”

                “Me too, what?” Sideswipe asked, optics closed. Sunstreaker could feel the whirl of his brother’s thoughts and feelings, amorphous and finally fading to manageable levels. Sideswipe looked weary, on the verge of falling back into recharge, already through with the process of forgiveness and forgetting.

                “Apologize to Ironhide. Once we get you cleaned up.”

                Sideswipe’s optics flew open, and he grimaced. “Don’t wanna.”

                “Too bad, because you’re going to. Don’t give me that pout,” Ratchet said as Sideswipe drew back and did just that.

                “Fine. Is he going to say he’s sorry for those last few cheap shots?” Sideswipe grumbled.

                “You bet he will,” Ratchet said grimly, once more palpating Sideswipe’s cheek strut.

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet does a lot of introspection and has a conversation with Ironhide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Ratchet's and lacking completely in action, but the characters needed a chance to recuperate after the last few chapters' events. The rewrite of this chapter went so much better than the rough draft I had, but I'm still not all the way pleased with it. I feel like Ratchet is repeating himself and being kind of wishy-washy on what he's feeling. This is as much as I got him to commit to, so I guess I'll take what I can get!

               Ratchet looked upon the twins’ recharging forms one last time and slid their door shut.

               Sideswipe’s injuries had ended up being relatively minor, much to Ratchet’s relief. The blaster wound had fortunately not been aggravated too badly; all bleeding had stopped by the time Ratchet had cleaned the area and reapplied a healing mesh. The lameness in Sideswipe’s left leg turned out to be a pinched cable that released once the dented plating covering the hip joint had been popped back out. The myriad scratches and scrapes would heal with self-repair. The most grievous injury was the fractured cheek strut, but it wasn’t life threatening and would heal with time as well.

               Ex-venting with aggravation, Ratchet considered the idea of attending a few mech first aid classes. If Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were intent on injuring themselves so frequently, Ratchet would probably save a lot of time and money just treating them himself. 

               He walked out into the common room and sank into his desk chair with a tired groan. The twins had been sent to their berth shortly after finishing Sideswipe’s repairs. Sideswipe had been barely coherent with exhaustion, optic shutters fluttering with his repeated efforts to keep his optics online. It didn’t help that his energy levels were low, but Ratchet had judged that refueling could keep for a few more hours. Sideswipe would probably have been too deeply into recharge to rouse by the time Ratchet returned with energon anyway.

              Sunstreaker hadn’t been much better, needing Ratchet’s assistance to lug Sideswipe’s limp form into their room. As soon as Sideswipe’s frame hit the berth surface, Sunstreaker had immediately crawled up next to Sideswipe and had settled down, recharge seeming to overcome them both in mere moments.

              Ratchet had watched them for nearly half an hour, just thinking.

              It was sometimes hard to remember that they were his _wards_. They weren’t his friends, and they certainly weren’t his lovers, no matter what ideas his glitched processor occasionally came up with.

              He knows now that he should have made time to tell them about Ironhide. His sex life wasn’t their business, and he certainly didn’t need their approval of his chosen partner. However, abandonment seemed to be one of their most prominent psychological issues and appearing as if he had been secretly leaving them to spend time with another mech wasn’t exactly a recipe for building trust.

              He wished Sunstreaker hadn’t heard his discussion with Ironhide at the hospital. He knew it was a hard concept for them to understand that he loved them so much he would give them up to keep them safe. That was his Caretaker protocols talking; those routines that were hardwired to protect his younglings above all else.

              But as he said earlier, he was also selfish. Despite the short amount of time the twins had been in his life, Ratchet couldn’t imagine his days without them. And that was due to other coding; despite being responsible for their care, he also enjoyed their company as one friend would another.

              If they had been a little younger… if they hadn’t been such capable fighters… Ratchet very likely would have been better able to view them as younglings. But if he had, he probably already would have ensured they were somewhere safer by now as well.

              Abruptly shaking his head, Ratchet straightened. There was no use dwelling on the past at this point. He loved Sunstreaker and Sideswipe; he wasn’t letting go of them. Perhaps for some wrong reasons, but also for a lot of the right ones as well.

              Ratchet had known that taking on responsibility for youngling twins was going to be a challenge. But he had never been one to back down from a challenge. He would persevere, just as he had had with every other obstacle in his life.

              He was going to have to have another discussion with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker in the morning, after they had all rested and all processor-altering drugs were out of susceptible systems. But first, there was another conversation Ratchet needed to have before he could take to his own bed.

\--

                As soon as Ironhide’s door opened, Ratchet’s tanks began churning. A little bit of nervousness, a smidge of shame, and a great deal of anger made a bad combination for the energon being processed in his systems.  

                The big, black mech leaned against the doorway, arms crossing over his chassis. The deep tear that Sideswipe had inflicted to his upper arm came into view, and Ratchet winced.

                “What do you want?” Ironhide rumbled, his optics narrowed. Ironhide had always given Ratchet a grin or a smile every time he saw him, so his grim features now were just the tiniest bit unsettling.

                “We need to talk,” Ratchet said. It was probably best to be quick about this. In a way, he was glad that there weren’t any other apartments on this floor; no one else had to witness the prospective argument.

                Ironhide snorted. “Ya think?”

                Lipplates twisting in an involuntary scowl, Ratchet did his best to calm his rise in temper resulting from Ironhide’s insolent tone.

                “I’m here to apologize, you aft, so maybe you can shelf the attitude for a microsec?” Ratchet snapped.

                Ironhide’s orbital ridges rose. “I s’pose I can. But just for …one… microsec,” he said, holding up a finger.

                Denta gritting, Ratchet blurted out the next few words as quickly as he could. “I’msorryIhadasaw toyourthroat.”

                “I’m sorry,” Ironhide said, tilting his head to the side. “I didn’t quite catch that?”

                Ratchet threw his hands up into the air. “I’m sorry! All right? I pulled a saw on you! You kept hitting him, and I didn’t think you were going to stop. For Primus’ sake, Ironhide! He hadn’t even been out of the hospital for more a full day!”

                Ratchet couldn’t help but feel a resurgence of the terror and anger he had experienced earlier when Ironhide had loomed over the downed Sideswipe, fist raised. Every word the twins had said about Ironhide’s size, strength and capability had turbulently swirled in his processor until he had snapped under a surge of protective rage. At that point, he had whipped the saw out of subspace without thinking.

                Ironhide straightened, a look of indignation spreading across his faceplates. “Fool scraplet wasn’t stopping! I thought for sure he was gonna rupture something so I was trying to knock him out, that’s all. Didn’t want to, but I had to hurt him to make him stop!”

                They glared at one another for several moments, until Ratchet looked away, vents working overtime.

                “You scared me,” Ratchet admitted quietly. “ _He_ scared me. I’ve worked with aggressive beasts before, but nothing like that,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t even _think_ to tranq him; I should have…”

                Ironhide abruptly stepped forward, placing his hands on Ratchet’s shoulders. “Hey. He would never hurt you. Never. Those bitlets love you more than life, Ratch.”

                “No! Oh, I know that!” Ratchet exclaimed, looking up. “It was more the fact that he’s _capable_ … what did they have to go through all this time? They were just sparklings when they were sold. Barely puppies when pushed into a ring.” Ratchet’s spark twisted even thinking about it.

                Ironhide nodded. “Too young to be learnin’ ‘bout killin’, that’s for sure. But he’s good. And when motivated… _slag_.”

                His expression saddened. “It’s easy to forget they’re just younglins. I hit him, hard. I feel kinda bad ‘bout that now; how’s he doin’?”

                “He’s fine. That cheek strut will take awhile to heal, but everything else was just dents and scrapes. He and Sunstreaker are recharging right now,” Ratchet said.

                “Slag,” Ironhide repeated, his hands falling away from Ratchet’s shoulders. Despite his lingering anger against the Enforcer, Ratchet almost immediately missed the warmth on his plating. “Sides sure was torqued, huh? Didn’t think he would try and kill me when he actually saw what we got up to in our spare time.”

                “They didn’t know,” Ratchet said, taking an earnest step forward. “I never did get a chance to tell them. So Sideswipe walked in, with his processor already addled from those stupid drugs, and…”

                “Primus,” Ironhide broke in, his optics offling for a moment before booting back up, understanding shining in the depths. “What musta that looked like? He probably though I was rapin’ ya.”

                “Pretty much. And both of them are so very protective over me.”

                “Yeah. Yeah,” Ironhide said, looking thoughtful. “Now I get why he was going full tilt.”

                “I’m sorry,” Rachet said after a pause, and it was sincere this time. “Not just for the saw, but the whole situation. I keep berating myself for not telling them sooner. This whole thing could have been avoided.”

                “Well, can’t change the past,” Ironhide said reasonably. “It happened, we’re all alive, and now I know not to torque _you_ off.”

                Ratchet looked up to catch the beginnings of a grin on Ironhide’s faceplates.

                Ratchet felt a surge of relief at the familiar expression. “Damn straight; you know, I can do some damage with that saw, if I really wanted to,” Ratchet said, and he couldn’t help the flirtatious boast.

                “Oh, I have no doubt,” Ironhide said, his engine rumbling again, but this time in a seductive purr. He leaned in, reaching out a hand to trace Ratchet’s vet medic emblam on his upper arm.

                “So… are we good?” he asked.

                Ratchet found himself subconsciously moving a few inches into Ironhide’s space. Damn the mech and his enticingly broad shoulders! Ratchet still wasn’t happy with him, but it was easy to forget that with Ironhide smiling roguishly at him.

                “Yeah,” Ratchet said, having to clear his vocalizer as it suddenly went husky. “Yes, we’re good.”

                “Wanna come in and apologize a little more?” Ironhide asked with a suggestive wink. A warmth began spreading through Ratchet’s lower abdomen, and he shuffled his feet.

                “That would be… No. No, actually, I can’t tonight,” Ratchet said, gaining control over his body’s response at the last moment. “I need to periodically check on Sideswipe. Maybe tomorrow, though?” Ratchet asked hopefully. “Oh slag,” he cursed, as soon as he made the offer.

                “We’re all supposed to meet with the lawyer tomorrow night. The trial is in two days. Uh…”

                 Ironhide took ahold of Ratchet’s hand, lifting their interlocked digits to place a kiss against Ratchet’s knuckle joints. Ratchet shivered as a puff of warm air from Ironhide’s vents passed over the sensitive digits.

                “You know where I am. If ya got some time, I’m sure I will too.”

                 “Right,” Ratchet said, reluctantly withdrawing from Ironhide’s tantalizing presence. Their hands dropped, and Ratchet turned to go, cursing himself for suddenly acting like a besotted fool. “Right, yes. Well… good night, Ironhide.”

                 “Night, Ratch.”

                 Ratchet could feel Ironhide’s optics on his back as he walked away. After a few steps, Ratchet paused and turned back around. The whole mess earlier could have been avoided entirely if all the participants (mainly Ratchet), had been more forthcoming. Well, here was another opportunity, and Ratchet wasn’t about to let it slip by him this time.

                 “This isn’t serious,” Ratchet suddenly blurted out.

                 Ironhide cocked his head to the side, inquisitive expression on his faceplates.

                 “I don’t… I don’t love you. Honestly, I’m not even sure I really like you all that much,” Ratchet informed the Enforcer. “I just want to be clear on that point. This…” Ratchet said, pointing between himself and Ironhide, “…is purely physical. And I think that’s all it ever will be.”

                 Ironhide stared at Ratchet for a moment, and the vet wondered if he had completely ruined his earlier apology. Then Ironhide nodded, lipplates set in a wry grin.

                 “I can handle that,” he said. “I like ya, Ratch. But I ain’t ready to settle down, either. I don’t expect anythin’ other than makin’ ya scream out my designation when you’re in my bed.”

                 Feeling his systems warm at the words, Ratchet huffed in irritated arousal. “Well, we all have to have goals, don’t we?” Ratchet said loftily, and then turned on his heel to stride across the landing. He did his best to ignore Ironhide’s guffaws as the apartment door slid shut behind him.

\--

                 Ratchet took a step into the common area and paused, sharpening his audios. Everything was still, the soft, even sounds of the twins’ ventilations barely reaching Ratchet’s sensors.

                 Ratchet quietly moved across the room, sidestepping the pile of pillows and blankets that he had yet to pick up. They were speckled with Sideswipe’s energon, and Ratchet made a note to remind himself to take the bedding with him for cleaning when he left for class tomorrow.

                 Tension was finally beginning to bleed away from his frame. The conversation with Ironhide had gone much better than he had expected. Ironhide was an important part of their lives, and Ratchet was glad that the Enforcer intended to remain so. He just hoped that the twins would be able to move past this whole thing as well.

                 Despite his earlier misgivings about their training sessions with Ironhide, Ratchet knew deep down that they could benefit from the Enforcer’s experience and knowledge; most importantly, they were learning to better protect themselves in a controlled environment. And while they were with Ironhide, they weren’t painting the other residents pink or venturing outside the building unsupervised.

                 The twins’ ventilations never even paused as Ratchet opened their door to peep in. They had shifted in their recharge, Sunstreaker tucking Sideswipe’s helm beneath his own chin, arm thrown around his brother’s waist. It looked almost as if he was anchoring Sideswipe, keeping his brother from getting up and wandering. Ratchet heartily agreed with that sentiment; he was half tempted to glue Sideswipe to the berth surface if it would keep him out of trouble in the future.

                They looked peaceful, recharge smoothing out the worried lines that had been carved into their faceplates earlier. It was going to be a rough next few days, Ratchet knew. They were going to be seeing himself and Ironhide in different lights, and Ratchet wasn’t sure how that would turn out. He didn’t think they would hold a grudge against Ironhide for long; Ratchet doubted that it really mattered to them that he was interfacing _Ironhide_ , only that he was doing it at all.

                The thought had obviously never crossed their processors that Ratchet could and did enjoy interfacing. They had seen him as a surrogate creator, someone who alternately cuddled them and bought them art supplies. Not a mech who had desires just as they did. And on top of that, those desires took him away from the twins.

                Perhaps Ratchet had inadvertently set them all up for the fumbled offer Sideswipe had given him last night. The three of them had all been incredibly tactile with one another; Ratchet knew for a fact that he had never been this affectionate and free with touches as he had with the twins. He had also been incredibly open about discussing their interfacing habits and gone so far as to tease Sideswipe about his volume.

                Looking back, Ratchet could easily see the steps Sideswipe’s processor had taken with his nebulous proposal: they were already physically comfortable together. What did it matter if they took the next step, as long as they could keep Ratchet close?

                Except Sideswipe hadn’t really considered everything that step would entail until the words were already past his lipplates. His confusion had been readily evident; Sunstreaker had been equally bewildered.

                Ratchet had lied to the twins, of course. He _was_ , in part, attracted to their frames and to their personalities the more he got to know them better. A small part of his processor, of his spark, had perked up at Sideswipe’s offer. Very small, but still present. He wasn’t proud of that part of himself; he was downright ashamed, actually, that he apparently couldn’t be rid of it. But, fortunately, it was something that was easily ignored.

                He should have never even mentioned their ages. He blamed that on Wheeljack, having suddenly remembered their conversation days ago, mere moments after Sideswipe had spoken. He should have instead discussed how wrong it would be, morally, or even legally.

                Ratchet fervently hoped that the twins would forget the discussion had ever happened, or remembered it as a bad side effect of pain medications.

                Idly, Ratchet set himself a note to contact the hospital again; Sideswipe burned off pain medication at an alarming rate, but even the smallest dose of his current meds made him loopy. Perhaps there was something else they could try.

                He left the twins’ door open a crack, and made his way back to his own room. He kept his door open as well, a little paranoid now about wandering younglings and assassins. Settling on the couch, Ratchet stared at the ceiling for several long moments. His processor was still awhirl, but the rest of him craved recharge and rest so badly that warnings were popping up in every system. Finally giving into the demands of his frame, Ratchet powered down.

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker practices his softer, more sensible side; also independence from Sideswipe. Ratchet realizes that its a good thing he spent the last chapter thinking about what to tell the twins.

“No,” Sideswipe announced.

     His voice was indistinct, muffled beneath the berth cover. Only the top of his helm was visible. Sunstreaker glared at the lump that was his brother, resisting the urge to physically pick him up out of bed and dump him on to the floor.

     Sunstreaker had been the first to get out of bed; he had thought Sideswipe was just being lazy when he hadn’t followed, rolling himself up in the bedding instead.

     Sunstreaker had quickly realized however, that this wasn’t a languorous lie-in; Sideswipe was absolutely adamant about not leaving bed for the indefinite future. The offer of a clean-up in the washracks or energon to fill the tanks that Sunstreaker knew were empty, was refused. Sideswipe’s snappish reply was that he wasn’t ‘feeling well’.-

     His glitch of a brother had injuries, sure. But Sideswipe had suffered much worse in the past and had functioned just fine. No, Sunstreaker suspected Sideswipe was doing his best to avoid Ratchet as it was nearly the time that their guardian normally woke up.

     “Yes,” Sunstreaker replied. He leaned down and yanked on the bedding, gradually unrolling Sideswipe out of it, despite his brother’s clutch on the material. “You can’t hide in here forever.”

     “Can too,” Sideswipe stubbornly said, one blue optic squinting up at Sunstreaker as his faceplates were revealed. “I’m not going _any_ where.”

     Sunstreaker dropped the covers, studying his twin. Small spikes of unease and fear were starting to trickle past Sideswipe’s blocks.

     “Sides…what is it?” he asked softly, trying a different tack. He sent a pulse of reassurance along their link, letting it lap at the walls that Sideswipe had erected between them. “You can tell me. You know you always feel better after you talk it over.”

     Sideswipe flipped to his side, facing Sunstreaker. He winced as his injured cheek pressed against the berth surface. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, yanking the blanket back up over his shoulders. 

     Sitting on the edge of the berth, Sunstreaker reached out and stroked the uninjured side of Sideswipe’s face. “It’s not ‘nothing’. Normally, you’re the one dragging _me_ out of bed. You’re not hurt _that_ badly. What’s wrong, Sides?”

     Sunstreaker knew exactly what was bothering his brother; Pit, it was bothering him too! But Sideswipe obviously wasn’t working through it on his own, despite how accepting he had seemed last night while in Ratchet’s arms. Sunstreaker should have figured that Sideswipe would be revisiting this topic as soon as he had had some recharge and slept away the effects of the pain meds.

     “I did a lot of stupid things last night,” Sideswipe finally blurted out, giving into to Sunstreaker’s gentle insistence. “Even for me! What if Ratchet…”

     Sunstreaker gently slapped Sideswipe upside the head, ignoring the annoyed growl from his brother. “You do stupid things every day, and Ratchet hasn’t kicked us out yet.” He very carefully hid his own worry from his twin. Sideswipe had a point; they _had_ to be pushing Ratchet’s limits by now.

     “I tried to kill his lover!” Sideswipe exclaimed, jerking upwards a few inches from the bed surface in his vehemence. Then he fell back down, hand sweeping up to cover his own mouth as he looked wide-opticked at the wall that separated the two berth rooms. After a few moments of silence, Sunstreaker felt his shoulders relax.

     “Well… you didn’t,” Sunstreaker pointed out reasonably. “You just got _your_ aft kicked.” Sideswipe glared at him.

     “Look,” Sunstreaker added, “I probably would have done the exact same thing if I had walked in when you did. How we were supposed to know they’ve been seeing each other? It’s not like Ratchet told us,” he said, his voice turning bitter.

     “Why do you think he didn’t?” Sideswipe asked. His expression was hurt as he asked the question, and he squirmed until he was sitting up, knee knocking against Sunstreaker’s. 

     “I don’t know,” Sunstreaker replied. He felt just as hurt as his brother did that Ratchet hadn’t entrusted them with such important information.

     Then Sunstreaker sighed as his ever-so-helpful memory banks supplied his processor with another pertinent recollection.

     “… I think he tried,” Sunstreaker admitted. “Remember that morning… when we thought he had found out about us training with Ironhide?”

     Sideswipe slowly nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. He had sat us down to talk, and Prowl knocked on the door. That was days ago, though; I wonder how long this has been going on.”

     “I don’t know; Ironhide’s been sniffing around him since the day we moved in,” Sunstreaker added, engine growling in remembrance.

     “Do you think… do you think they’re in love?” Sideswipe ventured, hand dropping to clutch at the berth cover. “What if Ratchet wants to spend all his time with ‘Hide? What if they bond? What if…”

     This time, Sunstreaker was the one to clap a hand over Sideswipe’s mouth components. “Calm down,” Sunstreaker instructed. His brother’s chest was rising and falling too quickly as his frame tried to ventilate air to cool down stressed systems.

     “There’s no use getting worked up over it,” Sunstreaker said. Wise words, but he could feel anxiety running through his own frame, unpleasantly tightening cables and wires.

     He dropped his hand away from Sideswipe’s mouth. “It’s not really our business anyway.”

     “How could it _not_ be our business?” Sideswipe said, his arms gesturing wildly. “He’s ours! Not Ironhide’s!” he exclaimed, a snarl lifting his lipplates.

     “Sideswipe…” Sunstreaker trailed off helplessly. He was experiencing a lot of the same turmoil that Sideswipe was, but a small part of him was trying to stay reasonable. And when did that happen? _Sideswipe_ was supposed to be the sensible one.

     “Look… he doesn’t… he doesn’t _belong_ to us. If anything, _we_ belong to _him_. We can’t just keep him locked away from the rest of the world. Pit, that’s what TopNotch did to us and look how much we ended up hating him!”

     Sideswipe’s expression turned stricken. “But…”

     Sunstreaker’s shoulders suddenly slumped; he was tired of the whole situation, but most importantly, he was tired of the uncertainty.

     “Sides… I don’t really know what’s going to happen. Ratchet sounded pretty intent on continuing to see Ironhide if they worked things out. And if something happens, then it happens. We’re not going to be able to stop it. And we don’t have the _right_ to stop it. Not if Ratchet’s happy.”

     Sideswipe’s optics dropped to stare at the berth cover as it wrinkled beneath his twitching fingers. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. Ratchet deserves to be happy. He’s put up with a lot from us. I just wish… I just wish it didn’t take another mech to make him happy,” Sideswipe murmured.

     Snorting, Sunstreaker shook his head, recalling Sideswipe’s words from last night. “I can’t believe you were about to offer us up last night in place of Ironhide. That was stupid thing number two.”

     “I know… it just kind of popped out of my mouth. I wasn’t really thinking.”

     “Obviously,” Sunstreaker replied. He felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment that Sideswipe agreed with him the idea was ridiculous. He pushed the odd reaction to the side, vowing to revisit it later.

     “Ratchet would never want us like that. It’s a miracle that he even liked us enough to adopt us,” Sunstreaker continued, knowing how lucky they were to have found Ratchet.

     “And hey… he could have chosen worse than Ironhide. At least Ironhide can protect Ratchet,” Sunstreaker added, grateful for that small mercy. “What if Ratch had ended up with Smokescreen? Mech knows his history, but he’d be a pushover in a fight.”

     “Or Bluestreak,” Sideswipe added, the ghost of a smile on his lipplates as they both shuddered at the thought. “All that babble…”

     They both fell silent, lost in their thoughts. Then Sideswipe gave a subtle shake, his shoulders straightening.

     “All right. All right,” he firmly repeated, sharply nodding once. “Ratchet’s fragging Ironhide. Ok. I can handle that as long as Ratchet’s happy. We can share Ratchet. But there’s gonna be rules.”

     Sunstreaker nodded in agreement. “I have a feeling Ratchet will make you apologize to Ironhide later today. We can talk to him more then.” He paused for a moment.

     “What are you going to say to him? To apologize?”

     Huffing, Sideswipe loosened his grip on his grip on the bedding. “Sorry I didn’t rip your spark out while I had the chance?”

     Sunstreaker chuckled softly. “Mmm. Maybe we should keep that one to ourselves.”

\--               

     The next morning arrived far too quickly. Ratchet awoke to his alarm and silenced it, staring at the ceiling for several long moments before leveraging himself to a seated position. His recharge had been deep, but once an hour he had interrupted it to peek in on Sideswipe. Each time, he had been relieved to see the twins recharging comfortably.

     He pushed himself upright, groaning as several of his cables protested the movement. He spent a moment twisting and bending, loosening himself up into wakefulness. Once his frame had warmed up a bit, he moved across the room. It was time to check on Sideswipe again and see what a new morning brought to his relationship with the twins.

     Ratchet’s hand was outstretched to move his door aside when it abruptly moved on its own. His spark thumped erratically in his chest as the door finished opening.

     “Morning!” Sideswipe chirped as his form was revealed. Ratchet took in a draught of air through his vents and slowly released it, trying to calm his systems down. There was no one attacking him; it was just his happily smiling ward.

     Except Sideswipe wasn’t happily smiling. He was attempting it, but it was coming out more like a grimace instead.

     Concerned, Ratchet automatically scanned the red twin’s systems for any malfunctions. His scans revealed that Sideswipe’s energy levels were still low, and he would need energon sooner rather than later. His spark rate was also a little elevated, and his cooling fans were gently humming.

     Suddenly concerned about a myriad of possible complications, Ratchet rushed forward, gripping Sideswipe by the arms and turning him so Ratchet could examine his injured side.

     “Ratch?” Sideswipe ventured, raising his arm so that he could peer down his torso as Ratchet poked at the mesh covering the blaster wound. “You ok?”

     “I’m fine,” Ratchet answered brusquely. “More importantly, are _you_ ok? You weren’t running this hot when I last checked on you,” he said, mumbling to himself.

     “Maybe we should take you back to the hospital. Frag! I knew I should have taken you last night. Slaggin’ Ironhide!” Ratchet spat, his hands roaming over Sideswipe’s upper torso.

     Sideswipe twisted, catching Ratchet’s wrists and stilling the vet’s motions. He looked at Ratchet with a puzzled expression. “I’m ok. Really.”

     “Like you would tell me,” Ratchet retorted, spying Sunstreaker coming up behind his twin. “Sunstreaker? What are your brother’s pain levels?”

     Raising an orbital ridge, Sunstreaker nonchalantly lounged against the wall opposite the doorway.

     “Well… I can tell you that he’s pretty much a permanent pain in my aft,” Sunstreaker replied, smirking when Sideswipe shot a glare over his shoulder at his brother.

     “Ratchet,” Sideswipe said again, this time squeezing the wrists held in his grip. The mild discomfort made Ratchet pause and look into his ward’s optics, searching for truth to Sideswipe’s words.

     “I’m fine. I’m not bleeding out, nothing’s gonna fall off. I’m sore, but it’s manageable. I’m just a little worked up, is all.”

     Ratchet’s optics spiraled wide in surprise. “Worked up? Surely you two haven’t been interfacing with an injury like that?! I didn’t think that I needed to tell you…”

     “I was slagging nervous!” Sideswipe exclaimed, releasing Ratchet’s hands and throwing his own up in the air before defensively crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t know how you would react this morning. I did a really idiotic thing last night, and I…”

     Abruptly, Sideswipe went silent, turning his head to look away. His entire frame was stiff and subtly vibrating.

     His wrists still tingling from Sideswipe’s grip, Ratchet looked from Sideswipe to Sunstreaker and then back again, realization finally dawning. He was too much of a vet; he always assumed a frame’s signs of distress were due to physical trauma; rarely did he ever consider that it could also be due to emotional.

     “Oh. Oh!” Ratchet exclaimed in relief. “You were… so you’re really fine?”

     “And dandy,” Sideswipe replied, still refusing to look Ratchet in the optics.

     Ratchet glanced over at Sunstreaker to see him equally withdrawn. Ratchet’s spark twisted a little. He had hoped that they would be able to move past this, but he should have known better. The twins had needed daily reassurances of his love and commitment to them even before finding out about Ironhide. They would easily see last night’s incident as a betrayal; Ratchet would need to be very open with his explanations to gain their trust back. 

     “Well… I wouldn’t necessarily call it an ‘idiotic’ thing,” Ratchet began.

     “So what would you call it?” Sideswipe asked, a hint of belligerence in his tone that normally was more at home in Sunstreaker’s voice than Sideswipe’s.

     Snorting, Ratchet rubbed a hand over his faceplates. “Reckless, maybe,” Ratchet admitted, hating the flinch to Sideswipe’s shoulders.

     “But also… just a touch heroic. And sweet.” Sideswipe’s head shot up, faceplates awash with surprise.

     “I must admit… I’ve ever been rescued from an attacker before,” Ratchet said, smiling gently. “The intruder the other night wasn’t anywhere near me so he doesn’t count.”

     Sideswipe’s lipplates twitched upwards into a small, answering grin. “Yeah? Well, it’s only one of many services we offer.”

     “But Ironhide wasn’t really attacking you,” Sunstreaker pointed out. Ratchet had to resist the urge to glare at the yellow twin when Sideswipe’s smile faded.

     “Well, Sideswipe didn’t know that at the time,” Ratchet said, trying to salvage the moment. A thought suddenly occurred to him.

     “And you,” he said, considering Sunstreaker. “You didn’t know that either. But yet you held back. Why was that?”

     Sunstreaker ducked his head for a moment before looking up at Ratchet. The yellow twin was very carefully refusing to look in Sideswipe’s direction.

     “I… well… Ironhide keeps telling us to think before we act; that I’m too impulsive. So I was trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Then you kept yelling at the two of them to stop…” Sunstreaker trailed off, fidgeting in place. “I… there was a part of my processor that kept telling me to listen to you… to _obey_ you…”

     “Huh,” Ratchet murmured, processor awhirl with that information. “Sparklings online with codes encouraging them to follow their creators’ instructions. It’s a safety mechanism, mainly centered around certain basic words like ‘no’… or ‘stop’,” Ratchet said slowly.

     Sunstreaker’s optics met Ratchet’s, murky with confusion. “Last month, I would have jumped right in. We would have offlined Ironhide in seconds. Sideswipe had him distracted; it would have been so easy to take him down from behind.”

     “Well… I guess we’re forming a bit of a surrogate creator-creation bond,” Ratchet said. He had to reset his vocalizer halfway through; his spark was suddenly trying to expand and fill his frame, giddy with the thought that the twins were truly seeing him as a surrogate Creator.

     “I’m glad you didn’t join your brother. It’s bad enough worrying about one of you. I couldn’t imagine if you both of you had been injured.”

     “If it had been both of us, I wouldn’t _be_ injured. We’d have ended the fight with just a few scratches apiece,” Sideswipe said, glaring at his twin.

     “Sideswipe…” Ratchet began, but Sunstreaker interjected, pushing off from the wall he had been leaning against.

     “I don’t have to go along with everything you do!” Sunstreaker retorted. “I could tell you weren’t thinking straight; you couldn’t even tell me _why_ you were going after Ironhide. You just kept demanding that I help! 

     “And I _was_ going to join in,” Sunstreaker admitted, glancing guiltily at Ratchet. “But first I was going to make sure Ratchet didn’t hurt himself. Don’t think I didn’t see you about to wade in there yourself,” Sunstreaker said, pointing a finger at their guardian.

     Ratchet took a step back in surprise at Sunstreaker’s intensity. “I was just going to…”

     “You were going to get yourself hurt or killed. Don’t _ever_ get in between two fighting dogs; you should know that,” Sunstreaker scolded. “Neither one of them would have known you were there until too late.”

     “Uh, bro, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but Ironhide isn’t a dog,” Sideswipe commented, seemingly content now that Sunstreaker had confessed he would have eventually joined Sideswipe in the fight. Then Sideswipe winced as Sunstreaker stepped forward and whacked him on the back of the helm.

     “Close enough. Just another two idiots fighting over a bitch in heat,” Sunstreaker said.

     Then he froze with his hand in mid air. Ever so slowly, his head turned to stare at Ratchet. Sunstreaker’s optics were comically huge as he realized what he had just said.

     “Um…”

     Ratchet couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing, whole frame shaking with the force of his mirth. After a good minute, the laughter tapered off to random chuckles. 

     “I’ve also never been called a bitch in heat. And I’ve been called a lot of things. Primus! I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time,” he said, still grinning

     “Sorry,” Sunstreaker muttered. His frame had tensed up again, likely mortified at his own words.

     Ratchet stepped forward, reaching out to ensnare the yellow twin in a hug. “I wouldn’t repeat that in polite company, but I’m not offended, Sunny. I’ve seen heat fights; they _are_ pretty similar.”

     Sunstreaker remained stiff in his arms, refusing to give in to Ratchet’s fond squeeze.

     “I’m not mad,” Ratchet repeated, glancing from one twin to the next. He made sure to hold their optics, hoping they would see his sincerity. 

     “At any of it. This was all a big misunderstanding. Give it a few more weeks, and we’ll be laughing about it.”

     “Give it a few more weeks, and you might move in with Ironhide,” Sideswipe muttered and then ducked his head as Ratchet’s focus turned to him. He considered his ward for several long moments before briskly nodding.

     “All right. I see that you’re worried about some things. We can do this now, but we all need refueling first. Sunstreaker, take your brother to the washracks and get the two of you cleaned up. I’m going to fetch breakfast, and then we’ll talk.”

     Sideswipe’s shoulders sagged, and Ratchet reached out to grip his arm. “Hey. Talking. That’s all. Nothing bad.”

     Sideswipe gave him a weak smile and nodded, but Ratchet could tell neither twin believed him.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moar talking! The Twins and Ratchet still have a few things to clear the air about.

     This was it. This was going to be what finally broke Ratchet’s patience, Sideswipe was sure of it. He was going to kick them out, turn them over to YPS, or worst of all: keep them but ignore them as if they were just the burdens they had always suspected they were.

     He tried to control his anxiety, but he suspected it was leaking through to Sunstreaker. His brother was silent, battling his own emotions. Surges of fear and embarrassment traveled across their link; Sideswipe wanted to comfort his twin, but could barely manage his own apprehension.

     They didn’t speak a word to one another as they exited the washracks. They trudged back to the apartment, pausing once they stepped inside. Ratchet wasn’t back yet, and Sideswipe didn’t know where to sit. The pillows he had been laid down upon last night were sticky with his energon, and there weren’t enough chairs for everyone.

     Sideswipe finally decided just to plop down on the section of floor that the bedding normally occupied. Sunstreaker followed, lowering himself to the floor with a little more grace and dignity. Sideswipe flashed a wry grin at his twin and then leaned against Sunstreaker’s shoulder. Sunstreaker’s arm snuck around Sideswipe’s lower back, and Sideswipe slid his own arm across Sunstreaker’s belly, the two of them instinctually curling into one another.

     When Ratchet came in, juggling three cubes in his hands, he took one look at them and shook his head.

     “You’re acting like you’re awaiting execution,” he said, coming over and handing them a cube apiece. Despite how empty his tanks were, Sideswipe could only take a sip before setting it aside. Then he pressed closer to Sunstreaker and looked expectantly at their guardian.

     Ratchet sat down on the floor a few feet away from them, slowly drinking his own cube while watching the twins. Ratchet’s silence and steady gaze was making Sideswipe even more nervous. He wished Ratchet would just get it over with. Tell them what he was going to do with them so they wouldn’t have to deal with this dread any longer.

     “So,” Ratchet finally said, his voice loud in the silence. “What questions do you have for me?”

     Sideswipe reset his audios to make sure they were working properly; after all, he had been hit around the head several times in the past day. But a diagnostic revealed that everything was working fine.

     “Uh… questions?” Sideswipe ventured.

     “Yes. Last night was the result of a lot of miscommunication and bad timing. I can’t do much about timing, but I think we can work on communication. I want to be honest with you both, and I want you to be able to feel as if you can do the same with me. So… questions?”

     “Are we going back to the YPS?” Sideswipe blurted out. That was first and foremost on their processors; next to him, Sideswipe could feel Sunstreaker tense in preparation of Ratchet’s answer.

     “No,” Ratchet immediately responded. “Neither of you are going anywhere unless you want to. If you don’t feel comfortable or safe here…”

     “We don’t want to go,” Sunstreaker murmured, shaking his head.

     “Then you stay,” Ratchet said, nodding. “What else?”

     “That’s it? We say we don’t want to go and that’s fine?” Sideswipe pressed. Surely it couldn’t be that easy? Surely Ratchet had to have more reservations about keeping them after last night?

     Ratchet sighed. “Sides… I’ve gone back and forth in my processor about this. But the end result is, I think that everyone would be happier if the three of us stayed together. It may not be the safest course of action while TopNotch still has influence, but I know you two are capable of protecting yourselves at least until help can arrives.”

     “Even you? You’ll be happy if we stay?” Sunstreaker immediately asked. He withdrew from Sideswipe’s embrace, leaning forward with burning optics.

     Ratchet looked taken back. “Of course!”

     “And we won’t be in the way?”

     Frowning, Ratchet’s head cocked to the side. “Be in the way of what?”

     “Your life? We’ve turned it upside down!” Sunstreaker exclaimed, Sideswipe nodding. “You never get enough recharge, you have to sneak around behind our backs with Ironhide…”

     “Woah, woah!” Ratchet said, interrupting Sunstreaker. His hand waved through the air as if erasing Sunstreaker’s words. “Take a look at any Creator or Carrier with sparklings or younglings… not a one of them gets enough recharge or remembers to refuel on a regular basis! I knew that getting into this.

     “As to ‘sneaking around’… I never intentionally hid anything from you. I _did_ try to tell you about Ironhide. But I suppose that I could have tried harder,” Ratchet admitted.

     “To be honest, my interfacing habits are none of your concern. But I also realize that you can be as protective of me as I am of you two. So in the future, I’ll try and make sure you know who I’m with and where I’m at. I’d expect you to do the same.”

     “Do you love him? Ironhide?” Sideswipe asked, dreading the reply.

     Ratchet had sounded certain they were going to be allowed to stay. If that was the case, Sideswipe wanted to know where they stood: would Ratchet continue to spend more and more time with Ironhide and less with them?  

     Ratchet looked startled. “Love… _Ironhide_? No. Absolutely not. I’m not going to move in with him; we’re not going to bond. Once he starts talking I can barely tolerate him, to be honest.”

     “That’s what you say now…” Sunstreaker muttered, looking off to the side.

     Ratchet took in a large vent of air and held it for a moment before forcing it out of his vents. He was beginning to look irritated; Sideswipe felt bad for a moment but then remembered that it was Ratchet who had initiated this whole conversation.

     “Mechs can change; you’re absolutely right,” Ratchet admitted. “But I honestly can’t imagine myself settling down with Ironhide. And he feels the same; we’ve already talked about this.”

     Sideswipe perked up at that tidbit of information. “You talked with him? Last night?”

     “Yes. I did. After putting you two to bed, I went and spoke with him. I explained what you had been thinking when you attacked him.”

     “And what did he say?” Sideswipe demanded.

     Raising an orbital ridge at Sideswipe’s vehemence, Ratchet paused before answering. “He apologized for hitting you so hard. He was worried you would hurt yourself and was trying to knock you into stasis.”

     “Oh.” Sideswipe settled back against the wall, slightly mollified. At least the fragger felt sorry.

     “What about you? Did he forgive you for trying to slicing his head off?” Sunstreaker asked.

     “Ooh, good question, Sunny,” Sideswipe commented, leaning back forward. Maybe Ironhide never even wanted to see Ratchet again.

     “I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to _slice his head off_ ,” Ratchet huffed, both a little irritated and embarrassed. “I just wanted him to stop. And yes, he did forgive me, once I explained I had thought he had been trying to kill you.”

     “So you forgave each other,” Sideswipe said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his tone. “What about…?”

     “We agreed that we’d like to continue seeing each other,” Ratchet said, nodding.

     Sideswipe couldn’t come up with much of a response to that. “Ah.”

     Next to him, Sunstreaker was silent, contemplating his clasped hands in his lap.

     “You don’t sound pleased about that,” Ratchet commented, eyeing them with too observant optics.

      Sideswipe opened his mouth and then snapped it closed. He shook his head, leaning back against the wall. Did Ratchet honestly expect Sideswipe to be _glad_?

     “Are _you_ happy?” Sunstreaker countered, shooting Sideswipe a look. There was a gentle prod along their bond, and Sideswipe gave Sunstreaker a small nod in response.     Sideswipe would keep his mouth shut; Ratchet deserved the world. And they wouldn’t stand in the way of that, no matter how much it rankled to lose Ratchet to yet another obligation or mech.

     “All right, look,” Ratchet said, shifting in place. He paused a moment, intently staring at the floor as if organizing his thoughts.  

     “I’m going to tell you some things… things that a Caretaker probably shouldn’t be discussing with younglings, but I think it will help you understand better.” Ratchet looked up at them, optics asking permission.

     Sideswipe exchanged a puzzled glance with his brother; it sounded like whatever Ratchet was about to say was going to be serious.

     “Ok. We can handle it,” Sunstreaker said, visibly bracing himself. “Go ahead.”

      Ratchet nodded and spoke. “Becoming a vet is hard. There are years and years of schooling and _so_ much information that we have to remember. Many students don’t make it, for a variety of reasons. And even when we do, some of us continue that schooling to specialize in a certain field. Like me with surgery. But it doesn’t end when you get the degree. Once you start practicing, you have to deal with life and death choices every day. From the very first day you step inside a classroom, there’s a great deal of stress, both physically and emotionally.

     “It’s a rewarding career, don’t get me wrong.  I love what I do, but I am under a lot of pressure a good portion of every waking minute. We all are. And… we all tend to have… an _outlet_ … for that stress. Some drink too much high grade, some take drugs. Some find a willing partner and frag themselves silly for a night and move on.

      “Now,” Ratchet said, drawing himself up, “I’ve seen what happens to mechs addicted to drinking and to stimulants; it’s not pretty. So, for me, the easiest stress reliever has always been the latter.”

     Sideswipe stared at their guardian for several moments before Ratchet’s words sunk into his processor. Almost simultaneously, he and Sunstreaker jerked backwards in surprise. He was the first to speak; Sideswipe was still dealing with the implications of what Ratchet had said.

     “So… you’re not serious about Ironhide. It could be anyone,” Sunstreaker said slowly.

     Ratchet nodded. “Yes. Exactly.” He crossed his arms over his chassis.

     “One day, sure… I will hopefully meet someone that I like enough to bond with. It may be next week, it may be ten years from now. I’m in no rush. The point is… I’m not ceasing my one avenue of stress relief because the two of you want to keep me to yourselves. For now, it’s Ironhide. He’s convenient, and I don’t have to worry about my safety what with everything that is going on with TopNotch.”

     Sideswipe dropped his gaze to stare at the floor, a little blown away. Sure, he and his brother had laughingly speculated on the building’s inhabitants and their possible interfacing partners. But never had they thought about Ratchet like that.

     He knew that Ratchet wasn’t perfect. They discovered that a little bit more and more every day.  But despite his occasional grumpiness and over protectiveness, he still remained something of a hero to them. And no one ever really thought about heroes having one night frags. 

     Sideswipe supposed it made sense. Ratchet was only a few years older than themselves, after all. He was attractive, regardless of what Sunstreaker thought about Ratchet’s finish. Despite working long hours, he still maintained his friendships, so he obviously liked being around others. Why _wouldn’t_ he have an active sex life?

     Before Sideswipe could think about it further (and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to), Ratchet spoke again.

     “I can understand that it might be difficult for you if I were to continue seeing Ironhide. You’d have to pass him on the stairs daily, and you both seemed pretty intent on continuing to train with him. So if you truly can’t handle the thought of us together… I’ll break it off with him. But I will eventually find someone else,” Ratchet warned.

     “I’m having a difficult time handling the thought of you with anyone,” Sideswipe truthfully replied. He caught Sunstreaker’s agreeing nod out of the corner of his optic.

     “Well… tough,” Ratchet retorted, and Sideswipe looked at him in surprise. “I have a hard time handling the two of you right next door to me every night, but I just shut my audios off and go back to reading. Find a way to deal with it.”

     “You’re going to bring mechs back here?” Sunstreaker asked, faceplates twisting in horror.  

     “No!” Ratchet replied, expression just as aghast as Sunstreaker’s. “This conversation is surreal enough; no, we would meet somewhere neutral or at the other mech’s place.”

 _If he stays with Ironhide… at least we would know where he was,_ Sunstreaker said. Sideswipe nodded. His brother had a point. If Ratchet decided to see someone else, then a whole slew of new variables regarding Ratchet’s safety would enter into the equation.

     “This is a really bizarre discussion, Ratchet,” Sideswipe commented. “But we’d rather you stuck with Ironhide. We can deal with him.”

     Ratchet studied Sideswipe and then Sunstreaker. “You’re telling me. Listen, I’m not talking about going out every night for hours on end. I love you two; I enjoy spending time with you. Even if it’s to have weird talks about interfacing.

     “I’m not giving you two up; and I’m not giving up our time together to spend it with Ironhide or some other mech. If anything, the thing that is going to take me away from you is my work.”

      “We love you too, Ratchet,” Sideswipe replied as his processor and spark fought an internal battle. It was so hard to let Ratchet leave their clutches, no matter what the cause. To let him go to another mech… but like he and Sunstreaker had discussed earlier, the most important thing was that Ratchet was happy. Sideswipe just had to keep reminding himself that.

     “And hey… one day, you’re going to find other mechs that you enjoy spending your time with, be it either in friendship or romance, and then _I’m_ going to be the one chasing _you_ down so I can spend time with you,” Ratchet added.

     “We would always make time for you, Ratchet,” Sunstreaker earnestly said.

     Ratchet’s gaze softened. “Thank you, Sunny. Now… any other questions?”

     Sideswipe thought for a long moment, processor still getting stuck on ‘Ratchet’ and ‘interfacing’. “Uh, you talked about training – we’re ok to start that back up again?”

     “Ironhide’s still agreeable if you are.”

     Sunstreaker glanced at Sideswipe, optics bright. _We could always use more training._

     “Of course, Sideswipe - you’d have to hang back until you pass medical inspection,” Ratchet added.

     “Awww,” Sideswipe whined, shoulders slumping.

     “Don’t you ‘aww’ me –you have a hole in your side!” Ratchet exclaimed.

     “I barely feel it,” Sideswipe protested. And to be honest, his cheek hurt worse than his blaster wound.

     “Doesn’t matter. You’re going to end up hurting yourself worse and be laid up even longer. So just wait until you’re healed.”

     “Fine,” Sideswipe sighed, slumping dejectedly back against the wall, ignoring Sunstreaker’s burst of amusement.

     “Ratchet,” Sunstreaker said hesitantly.

     “Yes, Sunny?”

     “We want to help. With rent and other costs. Can we get information on apprenticeships or internships?” Sunstreaker tentatively asked.

     Ratchet reared back in surprise. “You’re young to be thinking about apprenticeships,” he said doubtfully. “And that’s not something that you need to do.”

     “Yeah, but getting fed information by Smokescreen is boring,” Sideswipe said helpfully. “I think we would learn better hands on. Sunny’s gonna be an artist!” he said proudly. He was promptly poked in the side by his twin.

     “Shut up!” Sunstreaker hissed.

     Sideswipe turned and glared at Sunstreaker. “What? It’s what you want to do, and you’re good! You should show Ratchet some of the things you’ve done lately.”

     Sunstreaker abruptly ducked his head, brushing at invisible dirt on his arm guards. “I’m not that good,” he mumbled.

     “Sunny, you can show me when you’re comfortable. But I’m glad that you have interests that you want to explore. I’ll have to look into some programs in the area; honestly, I don’t know what’s available.”

     “We thought Prowl might know something,” Sunstreaker offered.

     “That’s definitely a possibility.  He’s certainly a wealth of information,” Ratchet said dryly.

     After a pause, he clapped his hands together. “Well? Does this help clear things up? Is there anything else you want to talk about?” Ratchet asked.

     Sideswipe racked his processor, but couldn’t think of anything else as pressing as what they had already discussed. He looked at Sunstreaker, but his twin just shrugged.

     “No. Not right now, anyway. We have a lot to think about,” Sideswipe said truthfully.

     “Ok. Good! Highly uncomfortable talk, but I’m glad we had it,” Ratchet said, pushing himself to this feet and brushing his hands against one another. “Now, I have to get to going, but you can comm. me during the day if you need anything.”

     Sideswipe checked his chronometer and realized that Ratchet should have left almost fifteen minutes ago.

     “You’re going to be late!” Sideswipe said, shooting to his feet. “What do you need? What can we do?”

     Ratchet chuckled. “I’ve got everything I need, Sides, thank you.”

     “Well, then go!” Sideswipe exclaimed, shooing Ratchet in the direction of the door as Sunstreaker moved to his feet as well. “You’ve got a class this morning, don’t you?”

     Ratchet suddenly turned around, making Sideswipe stumble in order to keep from running into him. 

     “I do,” Ratchet said. He reached up and laid a hand against the uninjured side of Sideswipe’s face. “But it’s nowhere near as important as you two. Are you sure you don’t need anything before I go?”

     Sunstreaker moved up to Sideswipe’s side. He paused for a moment and then stepped forward, roughly enfolding Ratchet into a hug. Ratchet’s startled optics met Sideswipe’s over Sunstreaker’s shoulder. Surprise quickly morphed into an expression of relief as Ratchet’s optics shuttered

     “I love you.” Sideswipe heard his brother murmur. Sideswipe happily watched Sunstreaker’s tension melt away as Ratchet’s arms came up around Sunstreaker’s back.

     Sideswipe knew this whole thing had badly shaken Sunstreaker’s trust in Ratchet. Some of it was starting to return, however, especially since Ratchet had been so forthcoming with them this morning. Just the fact that he had lingered long past his normal departure time said how much he valued them over going to class.

     “I love you too, Sunny,” Ratchet murmured back, gently stroking the back of Sunstreaker’s neck.

     Sunstreaker squeezed Ratchet once, the medic’s armor creaking alarmingly, before Sunstreaker released him and stepped back.

     “We have that thing tonight with the lawyer, right?” Sunstreaker said, steadfastly ignoring Sideswipe’s sappy smile.

     Ratchet reset his vocalizer with an audible click and nodded. “He’s coming over right after I get home. Smokesceen will be here at his usual time. Sideswipe, no strenuous activity.” Ratchet paused.

     “Will you two be visiting Ironhide today?” he asked.

     “Likely,” Sunstreaker answered. Sideswipe shrugged, uncertain. He wasn’t quite sure he was up to facing the Enforcer again so soon.

     “All right. Well… Sideswipe…” Ratchet began.

     “Apology. Yeah, I know,” Sideswipe said, ducking his head to look at his feet. He had no doubt that Ratchet would follow up with Ironhide later to make sure Sideswipe had apologized and had seemed sincere about it.

     “Right. Ok then. Well, I’ll see you tonight. Have a good day,” Ratchet said, moving forward to kiss them both on the cheek.

     “You too, Ratchet,” Sunstreaker said as their guardian walked to the door. With one last wave, Ratchet walked through the doorway, leaving them to stare at the door as it slid shut.

     “Do you think other families have these types of conversations?” Sideswipe idly asked. Now that some of his anxiety had been relieved, he was beginning to feel the ache of an empty tank, and he looked around for his abandoned cube.

     “Sides… I don’t think there are any other families quite like ours,” Sunstreaker wryly replied.

 

 ~ End Chapter 25


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter... the night before the trial.

       Ratchet took the stairs two at a time, absently wondering how the twins moved as quickly as they did under the weight of all their plating. He had considerably less armor than they, but he felt as if he was moving through a vacuum as he rushed upstairs.  Halfway up, he almost bowled over a bemused Hound who was on his way down. Ratchet threw an apology over his shoulder and kept on going.   
  
      Once he reached the landing, he paused a moment to slow his energon pump and then keyed in the lock to the apartment door. He pushed his way inside, apology already forming on his lipplates.  
  
      “FirstTier, I’m so sorry, there was an emergency that came… in… late…”  
  
      He trailed off, taking in the overcrowded common room of his apartment. “Uh… hello, everyone…”  
  
      Prowl genteelly nodded a greeting from his seat in the corner. Wheeljack got up from his chair next to the Enforcer and trotted over, slapping Ratchet on the shoulder. “Hey, Ratch!”  
  
      “’Jack. Hi. Uh, what are you all doing here?” Ratchet asked, confused. He didn’t remember FirstTier mentioning inviting others.  
  
      “It’s like a party, but really not,” Sideswipe spoke first, his expression hovering between irritated and amused. He had been lying on his side on the floor with his head pillowed on Sunstreaker’s thigh, but now was leveraging himself upright.  
  
      “Well, it’s nice to see you too, buddy!” Wheeljack commented, the jovial flashing of his helm fins belaying his hurt tone. “FirstTier wanted to finish prepping our statements as well,” he said, gesturing to himself and then Prowl.  
  
      Ratchet glanced over at [the lawyer](http://fuzipenguin.livejournal.com/370270.html) who was quietly entering information into the datapad in front of him. “It seemed easier to gather everyone involved to one place,” FirstTier murmured. “I didn’t think you would mind the extra frames.”  
  
      “Oh no. It’s been quite the enjoyable time,” Sideswipe remarked in an overly cheerful voice, smoothly stepping between Wheeljack and Ratchet. He grasped Ratchet’s hand and pulled, tugging him away from Wheeljack.  
  
      “I’m sure,” Ratchet said dryly, noting the sour expression on Sunstreaker’s faceplates. Neither of the twins liked FirstTier, and they both had demonstrated prior reluctance to having guests in the apartment, especially those that interrupted with their time with Ratchet.  
  
      “Sit,” Sunstreaker rumbled as soon as Ratchet was within a few feet of Sunstreaker’s outstretched legs.  
  
      Ratchet resisted Sideswipe’s push towards the floor. “Have you two had dinner?” he asked, recalling the late hour.  
  
      “Was waiting on you,” Sunstreaker replied, reaching into subspace to pull out three cubes. “Get your own,” he commanded, optics derisively flitting over the other occupants in the room. Ratchet glared a warning at his cranky ward before looking up at his guests with a question on his lipplatess.  
  
      “Actually, refueling would probably be wise. FirstTier, would you care for some energon?” Prowl inquired as he stood.  
  
      The [lawyer](http://fuzipenguin.livejournal.com/370270.html) looked up with a grateful smile. “That would be great. I’m sure I’ll be here a while.”  
  
      “Excellent. If you would follow me, we can take a small break and then resume the preparations. Wheeljack?” Prowl asked, turning toward the engineering student with a raised orbital ridge.  
  
      “Go,” Ratchet commanded before Wheeljack could answer. “I know you. I doubt you’ve refueled at all today,” he said, noting the dullness to Wheeljack’s finish that indicated he had probably spent the night in the lab again.  
  
      “I’ll have you know that I had a cube…” ‘Jack trailed off, his helm fins flickering uncertainly. “… all right. Yeah, it might have been yesterday.” His head lowered as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
      “If you do not take care of yourself, how will you ever be able to take care of others?” Prowl asked tartly, before turning on his heel and making for the door.  
  
      Ratchet raised an orbital ridge at Wheeljack, who shrugged. ‘I’ll tell you later’ he mouthed at Ratchet and then followed the lawyer and Enforcer out of the apartment.  
  
      “Woah. Some tension there, yeah?” Sideswipe shrewdly observed. “What’s that about?”  
  
      This time, Ratchet allowed himself to be maneuvered to the floor, quickly finding himself sandwiched between two very cuddly twins.  
  
      “Wheeljack fancies Bluestreak. I have a feeling Prowl found out about it,” Ratchet replied, juggling his cube as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker did their best to make both of their larger frames fit into his lap.   
  
      “All right, come on, now,” Ratchet protested.  
  
      “We missed you,” Sideswipe murmured, nuzzling Ratchet’s shoulder. “And they’ll be here all night.”  
  
      “Not all night,” Ratchet replied, quickly tossing the contents of his cube back so he could wrap an arm around each of them.   
  
      “Long enough,” Sunstreaker grumbled. “Can’t wait until this is over.”  
  
      Ratchet rested his cheek on top of Sunstreaker’s helm. “You and me both, Sunny,” he said quietly. Their frames relaxed against his, Sideswipe’s engine rumbling a soft purr as they basked in his presence.  
  
     Ratchet felt himself relaxing as well; he hadn’t known what to expect upon his arrival this evening. The twins had seemed accepting when he had left in the morning, but he knew how quickly that could change. He was unbelievably glad that they were welcoming him home with none of the fear and hesitancy they had shown him upon waking.  
  
      “How was your day today?”  
  
      “Boring,” Sideswipe sighed. “Lessons, lessons, and more lessons. And then we hung around here until FirstTier came by.”  
  
      “You didn’t train with Ironhide?” Ratchet asked, surprised.  
  
      “You said not to until Sideswipe was cleared,” Sunstreaker reminded him. “But Sides did go down to apologize.”  
  
      There was a hint of amusement laced through Sunstreaker’s words that piqued Ratchet’s interest. Before he could ask however, there were footsteps on the stairs in the hall. The twins tensed, clutching Ratchet as if they would be torn away as soon as their visitors returned.  
  
Ratchet gave the twins a squeeze. “Hopefully this won’t last long; I’m sure we can talk some more later.”  
  
      Sunstreaker snorted as Sideswipe cuddled even closer. “We’re kicking them out after a few hours. You won’t be able to stop us,” Sunstreaker muttered.   
  
      “I won’t even try,” Ratchet said chuckling. He pressed a fond kiss to each of their forehelms as the door slid aside, Prowl entering first.  
  
      The enforcer’s optics automatically scanned the room, blinking placidly at the cuddle pile along the wall. Wheeljack followed next, and he came to an abrupt standstill, causing FirstTier to make an irritated sound as he danced sideways to avoid a collision.  
  
      “Awww! You guys are so adorable!” Wheeljack gushed, clutching his energon cube to his chest.   
  
      FirstTier peered around Wheeljack’s shoulder. “Oh!” he exclaimed, once he saw how close the twins were to Ratchet. “That is _gold_! May I take some photo captures for the trial? Uh… except… maybe… back the way you were…” he asked hesitantly.  
  
      Ratchet looked down to see Sideswipe glaring over his shoulder while Sunstreaker’s engine revved warningly, a warning gleam in his narrowed optics.  
  
      “Why?” Ratchet asked, tightening his grip on each twin in case either of them felt the need to go beyond glares.  
  
      “To help sway the jury. This is just one example of how strong a bond the three of you have formed. Cute sells,” FirstTier explained.  
  
      “I’m not cute!” Sunstreaker snarled, almost violently pushing himself away from Ratchet’s side. Ratchet felt the loss of Sunstreaker’s warmth keenly and did a little glaring of his own at FirstTier.  
  
      “Right then you were,” Wheeljack said cheerfully. “And I got some captures as I walked in,” he said in an aside to the lawyer.  
  
      Growling subvocally, Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chassis and slouched against the wall. Ratchet could tell he was embarrassed and judged it best to let the more temperamental twin be. Sideswipe, on the other hand, took the opportunity to completely slide into Ratchet’s lap, his arms winding around Ratchet’s neck and his head resting on Ratchet’s shoulder. His feet wound up on Sunstreaker’s thighs, much to Sunstreaker’s displeasure.  
  
      “Really?” Ratchet asked wryly, craning his head to try and peer into Sideswipe’s face.  
  
      Sideswipe shrugged, snuggling close. “Sunny’s loss. I don’t care if they take more pictures.”  
  
      “Would you like to get started?” Prowl interjected, looking expectedly at the lawyer.  
  
      First Tier’s frown faded, and he nodded at Prowl. “Yes, thank you. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes for the both of you. Then you can go, and I’ll work with Ratchet and the younglings. So, firstly: Wheeljack. Just answer the questions as if you were on the stand right now. If you would, please describe the work that you do…”  
  
      As Wheeljack began to answer, Sunstreaker slowly leaned back into Ratchet’s side, wary optic on the rest of the room.  
  
      “Are you seeing Ironhide tonight?” Sideswipe quietly asked. He had quite firmly wedged his helm beneath Ratchet’s chin, so Ratchet couldn’t see Sideswipe’s expression. He could see Sunstreaker’s though, and the yellow twin’s faceplates were guarded.   
  
      “No, not tonight,” Ratchet replied simply. He didn’t feel a need for the type of release found in overloads. Tonight, he just wanted to spend time with the twins, knowing that the next few days were going to be very emotionally turbulent for them.  
  
      Against his side and in his arms, the twins fractionally relaxed.  
  
      “So once we get rid of these guys, we’ll have you to ourselves,” Sideswipe said happily, wriggling slightly before settling again with a pleased sigh.  
  
      “Do you have to go to class in the morning?” Sunstreaker asked.  
  
      Ratchet shook his head. “I’ve been excused for the whole day. The trial’s not until mid-morning though, so we’ll have some time to just laze about.”  
  
      “Or… maybe we could get our alt modes tomorrow?” Sideswipe suggested. The way Sideswipe had said it made Ratchet think that the idea had been percolating for a while now. It wasn’t a bad idea, to be honest. They couldn’t walk everywhere and transports could get expensive.  
  
      “Alts?” Ratchet said, finding his ability to nod a little impeded by Sideswipe’s big helm. “I’ve been meaning to set some time aside for that.”  
  
      Sideswipe untucked himself from Ratchet’s chest to employ the use of large, rounded, and pleading optics. “Tomorrow then? Please, Ratch, please?”  
  
      While not as pitiful as his brother, Sunstreaker leaned forward with an earnest expression as well. “Please, Ratchet?”  
  
      Ratchet considered it, he truly did. Then he regretfully shook his head. “I do want to do that for the two of you, but I just don’t think there’s going to be enough time before the trial.”  
  
      “No. No, I’m sorry, I really am,” Ratchet said, raising his voice over the twins’ protests. “But just think… it’s going to take time to find the perfect model you want to transform into; Sunny, I mean you. And then you’re going to want to spend the next few hours trying it out; Sideswipe, don’t even think about denying it.”  
  
      Sunstreaker subsided against the wall with a displeased rumble, reluctantly nodding his head. Sideswipe, on the other hand, squirmed around until he was square on Ratchet’s lap and placed his hands on Ratchet’s chassis.  
  
      “But… we’ve been good, haven’t we? We’ve gone to our lessons and haven’t pranked anyone since Smokey!” Sideswipe protested.  
  
      Ratchet had to stifle a laugh. Sideswipe probably didn’t realize how ridiculous he looked: a foot taller than Ratchet and sprawled over his caretaker’s lap like a tiny sparkling. Some of Ratchet’s amusement drained away at the thought. Sideswipe had never before had the opportunity to act like a true sparkling… to whine and beg for something he really wanted. At least not in this form, anyway.  
  
      “Sides…” Ratchet said, reaching out to cup his ward’s cheek. “It’s not a matter of if you’ve been good or not. I just don’t want you to have to rush. I’ll look into the best places to go, and we’ll devote a whole day to it. After the trial.”  
  
      “But…”  
  
      “No,” Ratchet repeated firmly. “And that’s the end of it.”  
  
      Sideswipe slumped at Ratchet’s no-nonsense tone. “Fine,” he sighed. “We’ll just walk everywhere. Even though I’m injured and should be resting,” he said, optics reproachfully flickering up to Ratchet’s.  
  
      This time Ratchet did laugh. He reached forward and pulled Sideswipe back against him, squeezing him tightly. “You’re not going to offline from a short walk,” he said, his spark suddenly welling up with affection for the mech in his arms.  
  
      “He might. He’s pretty delicate,” Sunstreaker added.  
  
      “ _You’re_ delicate!” Sideswipe retorted at the apparent insult. He pulled himself out of Ratchet’s embrace to launch himself at his brother.   
  
      Ratchet raised an arm to shield himself from flying limbs and scooted a few feet away from the tussling brothers, a smile on his faceplates. He watched the twins for a moment, completely forgetting that they had an audience until he felt another’s presence at his side.  
  
      He looked up as Wheeljack crouched down next to him. His fellow student’s facial fins were rapidly flashing a cacophony of colors, and his gaze was amused.  
  
      “Parenthood suits you,” Wheeljack softly commented. “You’re a natural.”  
  
      Ratchet shook his head, glancing over to see FirstTier and Prowl bent over a data pad as they worked through Prowl’s statements. “Thanks, but I really have no idea what I’m doing.”  
  
      “I don’t think it matters, Ratch. Not to them, anyway,” Wheeljack said, reaching out to pat Ratchet on the shoulder.  
  
      “Anyway, I’m gonna head out. FirstTier’s almost done with Prowl. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Although probably not until the afternoon. I think FirstTier said you guys will be some of the first witnesses.”  
  
      “Yeah, see you tomorrow, ‘Jack,” Ratchet said absently, watching Sideswipe roll atop Sunstreaker and impishly lick his brother across the cheek.   
  
      “Night, kids!” Wheeljack called out to the twins before pushing himself back onto his feet. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker paused in their play, Sideswipe waving a farewell before wriggling his fingers beneath Sunstreaker’s abdominal plating.  
  
      Sunstreaker honest to Primus _giggled_ and ineffectually batted at his brother. Ratchet raptly watched, utterly entranced with seeing his adoptions play and cavort like they hadn’t a care in the world. Ratchet barely noticed when Prowl departed, and FirstTier had to call Ratchet’s name several times before he heard it.  
  
      He looked up, meeting FirstTier’s gaze. For the first time since Ratchet had met him, First Tier smiled and the expression made its way all the way up to his optics.  
  
      “Are you ready?” he asked softly.  
  
      Ratchet looked once more at the twins and then back at the lawyer. “Yeah,” Ratchet said, nodding once with a new determination. “Let’s get started.”  
  
  
  
  
  
~ End Chapter 26   
  



	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We'll get to the trial eventually! Sideswipe thinks about interfacing while everyone else is an responsible adult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sideswipe has some thoughts about getting it on with Sunstreaker while in their canine forms. Bestiality? Some might consider it so, so you have been warned.

                Paying attention was _hard_. He didn’t know how either Ratchet or Sunstreaker did it; FirstTier was _boring_. Or maybe it was the subject matter; Sideswipe didn’t understand why they needed to know all these details about the trial. He had understood preparing answers to the questions FirstTier planned on asking them, but wasn’t that all they needed to know?

                Apparently not, judging by the past twenty minutes. And FirstTier showed no signs of stopping any time soon, as he moved onto describing each juror in detail.

                Sideswipe ex-vented heavily and squirmed in place, nudging hopefully at Sunstreaker’s blocks for the fourth time. He sighed again, more dramatically this time, as Sunstreaker pushed back against Sideswipe’s poke.

                _Stop pouting and focus,_ Sunstreaker finally said, shooting a disdainful look over his shoulder. _This is important, and you’re not a sparkling. Even though you act like one._

Sideswipe twitched in response, glaring daggers at his twin’s back. Feeling just a bit hurt, Sideswipe bundled up all the image captures he had gathered in the past hour or so. He then viciously threw them across the link to Sunstreaker.

                _You were saying?_ Sideswipe snidely asked as Sunstreaker stiffened upon viewing the captures.  They were pictures of Sunstreaker snuggled into Ratchet’s side or giggling under Sideswipe’s tickling fingers. Who was Sunstreaker to call Sideswipe a sparkling when Sunstreaker acted immaturely at times too?

                Before Sunstreaker could do more than glower over his shoulder, Ratchet shifted and turned his head. He had taken Prowl’s chair, moving it and FirstTier’s so that they were facing one another across Ratchet’s desk. The brothers were just feet away on the floor. Sideswipe was mulishly lounging against the wall, while Sunstreaker had scooted forward to better hear the adults’ conversation.

                Ratchet didn’t even speak; he just looked evenly at them in turn, and Sideswipe sheepishly pushed his irritation and restlessness to the side. Sunstreaker was right, after all. This trial was important for all of them, but Ratchet was particularly worked up over it; it wouldn’t be right to distract him.

                Ducking his head in a wordless apology, Sideswipe sat up straight. He rolled to his knees and initiated his transformation sequence. Halfway through, he remembered that he probably didn’t have Ratchet’s ok for that as their guardian startled, half rising from his seat with his mouth open in protest.

                **Not even a twinge,** Sideswipe hurried to reassure Ratchet. Sideswipe twitched his tail in a friendly wag, trying to appear as earnest as possible.

                Ratchet gestured for FirstTier to continue as Ratchet sank back into his seat, optics roving over Sideswipe’s canine form as he padded across the space separating them. Sideswipe ignored Sunstreaker’s annoyed faceplates as he passed by his twin.

                **Nothing? At all?** Ratchet inquired, disbelief clear.

                **Well… not in my side, anyway,** Sideswipe admitted. **Achy in my face, but an old ache. Like something healing.**

 **It’s not going to heal well if you keep pushing things,** Ratchet grumbled, turning back to face the lawyer.

                **I don’t mean to. I forgot,** Sideswipe said truthfully. He plopped himself down on his haunches at Ratchet’s feet, leaning forward to tentatively lick at Ratchet’s hand.

 **I’m sorry,** Sideswipe said, hoping Ratchet realized that the apology was for both his restlessness and the unauthorized transformation.

               Without prompting, Ratchet’s hand rose and settled on Sideswipe’s head in a warm caress. After a moment, Ratchet’s fingers began digging into the area behind Sideswipe’s ear flap. His tail balancer thumped enthusiastically a few times before going still as his whole body focused on the pleasant sensations.

 **You’re forgiven,** Ratchet replied after a minute.

               Happy that Ratchet wasn’t mad with him, Sidesewipe leaned more fully against Ratchet’s leg, not caring in the slightest if his behavior was considered needy or sparkling-like. It made him feel good, and Ratchet had pulled both of them close enough times for Sideswipe to know that their Caretaker liked to have hands on them, reassuring himself that they were all right.

               Right now, however, there was only one of them beneath Ratchet’s hands. By all rights, Sunstreaker should be sitting on the other side of Ratchet, occupying his other set of fingers. Sideswipe cracked an optic shutter and sought out his twin.

               Sunstreaker was still sitting on the floor, no longer glaring, but instead looking a little bit lost. As soon as he saw Sideswipe looking, his expression became aloof. Sideswipe fought down the urge to smack him. 

                _Ratchet has two hands,_ Sideswipe said encouragingly. _And he doesn’t mind that we act like sparklings. In fact, sometimes I think he prefers it._

Sunstreaker dropped his gaze to stare at his lap. Sideswipe caught a brief flicker of uncertainty before Sunstreaker gained control of his end of their connection.

                _Why did you have all those image captures?_ Sunstreaker asked softly.

                Sideswipe’s other optic opened, studying his brother. _Because I like to see you happy_ , he said simply.

                Sideswipe couldn’t ever remember seeing Sunstreaker laugh like he had earlier. Their canine forms weren’t built for it, and he was still learning all of the possible expressions that could grace Sunstreaker’s faceplates. Happiness and contentment were some of Sideswipe’s favorites.

 _We’re younglings,_ Sideswipe added, _halfway between adults and sparklings. We can act like adults tomorrow. But tonight, can’t we be sparklings? Just for a little while?_

               As he waited for Sunstreaker to respond, Ratchet used their still open communication link. **Everything ok?**

 **This is boring. Will you tell me it again later, but in non-lawyer words?** Sideswipe asked, letting his optic shutters close as Ratchet’s fingers found a particularly good spot.

               Above his head, Sideswipe heard the quiet huff of a suppressed laugh. **We can go over it again before the trial,** Ratchet agreed. **But I meant with your brother.**

               Sideswipe reached out, his spark meeting a wall of hesitation. **He’s trying to decide if it will ruin his tough mech image if he comes over here for a head rub,** Sideswipe summarized.

               Ratchet huffed again and lifted his hand off Sideswipe’s head, must to his disappointment. Wordlessly, Ratchet raised his arm and beckoned to Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker caught the motion and tilted his head to the side, optics considering.

               After a long moment, he emitted a put upon sigh and stood. Internally, Sideswipe smirked. Sunstreaker had never been able to admit when he wanted something; the reluctance was just a show.

              His twin took a step and between that one and the next, he transformed. His armor plates smoothly moved up and out of the way as joints and struts rearranged themselves into new configurations. His plating ruffled once and then settled as his front paws touched the ground with a soft thump.

              Idly, Sideswipe felt his pelvic plating warm as he watched Sunstreaker’s smooth transition from mech to canine. Sideswipe didn’t think he could ever tire of watching his brother, no matter the form; he was all sleek curves, coiled power, and grace. 

              Sunstreaker moved the few steps forward to bring him to Ratchet’s other side, Sideswipe’s optics following him the entire way. When Sunstreaker hesitated with his nose inches away from Ratchet’s thigh, Sideswipe eagerly shoved his own head back under Ratchet’s hand. Ratchet obligingly began stroking the top of Sideswipe’s head, glancing down with a small smile before turning his attention back to the lawyer.

 _He won’t bite,_ Sideswipe teased, watching Sunstreaker waver in place. Now that he was so close, Ratchet was very carefully not looking at Sunstreaker, letting him choose how and when to proceed.

 _I know that!_ Sunstreaker snapped. Defiantly, he took the final step forward and plunked his chin down on Ratchet’s thigh. He shot a glare at Sideswipe, expression clearly saying ‘so there!’ Seconds later, Sunstreaker’s optics widened as Ratchet’s hand slowly descended to the top of Sunstreaker’s head. For a long moment, it just stayed there, and then Ratchet’s fingers began to rub small circles into the plating atop Sunstreaker’s helm.

 _The lawyer’s taking more pictures, isn’t he?_ Sunstreaker asked in resignation, optic shutters slowly closing in pleasure.

            Sideswipe tilted his head and watched FirstTier’s optics flick between Ratchet’s faceplates and their frames. Sideswipe had no doubt that the lawyer was doing just that but didn’t really care.

_Maybe. Does it matter? Especially if it can actually help put TopNotch away for good?_

_I suppose not,_ Sunstreaker admitted. _Now try and pay attention, will you?_

            Sideswipe tried to, he honestly did. Every now and then, he followed the conversation for a minute or so and then his attention would wander again. Time after time, his optics returned to the look of bliss on Sunstreaker’s canine face, the way his claws would slowly flex and extend as Ratchet massaged the base of Sunstreaker’s ear flaps.

            Still a little charged up from watching Sunstreaker’s transformation, Sideswipe’s thoughts eventually turned to the subject of interfacing. It had been over two days since they had last spark merged and longer than that since they had interfaced. In Sideswipe’s processor, that was far too long to go without intimate contact with his brother.

            He shifted slightly, feeling a new, strange heaviness in the cradle of his pelvis, almost as if a weight was tied to it and exerting a downward pull.

            When they had spark merged while in TopNotch’s tender care, the overload had always been contained in their sparks. He had never once felt the sweet ache of a pressurizing spike or lubricating valve while as a canine. Sideswipe wondered if that had been because they had been inhibited. Their interfacing equipment didn’t just disappear when they transformed into dogs, right? Was the gradually building pressure in his hips this form’s beginnings of arousal?

            Sideswipe squirmed a little at the thought of finding out. Even if they couldn’t access their equipment while in this form, he could still see some advantages to it. His muzzle and glossa were elongated as a canine; would Sunstreaker’s let Sideswipe settle between his brother’s thighs and lick into Sunstreaker’s valve until he overloaded?

            Before he could get even further worked up, Sunstreaker shoved him along their bond. Sideswipe opened his optic shutters to see his brother staring at him.

 _What are you thinking about?_ Sunstreaker demanded. _Now is not the time to fantasize! I can smell how worked up you are from here!_

            Sideswipe had forgotten that their nasal sensors, much like their ocular and aural sensors, were most sensitive in this form. Well, he was caught now; no point in denying it.

 _Wouldn’t you like to know?_ Sideswipe asked and fired an image across their link.

           Sunstreaker’s optics widened as he received the imagined picture of himself in the throes of ecstasy as Sideswipe’s long, canine glossa explored Sunstreaker’s valve. _What… you… I can’t…_ he sputtered.

 _Wanna wrestle?_ Sideswipe asked and sent another image, this time of both of them in their canine forms, himself pinning Sunstreaker to the ground as he took his brother’s valve from behind. That one made Sideswipe shiver as soon as he sent it; they hadn’t yet had a chance for him to spike Sunstreaker, and suddenly Sideswipe couldn’t wait to do so.

 _No! I can’t believe you! Get that line of code out of your processor and pay attention!_ Sunstreaker shouted, underlining the words with a rumbling, subvocal growl.

           Sideswipe shrugged. _Your loss!_ he said, lying his cheek on Ratchet’s thigh and looking up at FirstTier. Despite Sunstreaker’s annoyed words, however, Sideswipe could scent a growing arousal coming from his twin’s direction. Sideswipe kept peeking at Sunstreaker, more than once finding his brother’s optics hungrily gazing at him.

           “… and then we will follow up with testimony from Top Notch himself. It is particularly important that both you and the twins maintain your composure.” Sideswipe perked up at the mention of himself and his brother.  Was the lawyer finally finishing up?

           FirstTier continued. “His lawyer will do everything possible to discredit you, and you must not react. Any of you,” First Tier said sternly, looking down at Sideswipe and then Sunstreaker. “Take the time to think over the questions and give honest answers.”

          “We’ll do our best,” Ratchet promised. “I’ll just keep reminding myself that TopNotch’ll be getting what’s due him.”

          A fleeting expression crossed FirstTier’s faceplates. “You should be aware, Ratchet… there is always a chance that the jury will side in Top Notch’s favor. Nothing is ever certain, especially with a high profile defendant who has ties to multiple communities,” FirstTier said carefully.

          “I know. But I have to hope,” Ratchet replied. Sideswipe reassuringly pressed against Ratchet’s leg, some of Sideswipe’s arousal fading. He was content enough to be out of Top Notch’s clutches and wasn’t particularly interested in revenge. For the attempt on Ratchet’s life, however, Sideswipe hoped that Top Notch would get sent to the smelting pits.

          “Well,” FirstTier said, thumbing off his data pads and organizing them, “as long as you realize that there’s a chance. I will meet you and the younglings tomorrow morning outside courtroom 224. We’ll go over any last minute changes if any happen overnight and run through the outline of the day one more time. Any final questions?”

          Ratchet shook his head and then looked down at Sideswipe and then Sunstreaker. When they stared back silently, Ratchet shook his head again. “Doesn’t look like it.”

          “All right then. Rest well. I’ll see myself out.”

          With a farewell nod, the lawyer stood and walked across the common room. He quietly left, the door barely making a sound as it slid closed behind him.

          “Hmm,” Ratchet murmured, optics fixed in a non-seeing stare at FirstTier’s empty seat. “Only another day and this will be over.”

          Sideswipe dropped his head back on top of Ratchet’s knee and huffed a quiet grunt. When there was no reply, Sideswipe nudged Ratchet’s still fingers, swiping his glossa across the knuckles in an attempt to stir their guardian from his sudden melancholy mood.

          Ratchet shifted, making a face when he glanced down at his glistening fingers. “Really, Sides?”

          In answer, Sideswipe stood and moved back a step in order to give himself enough room to transform. Before he could, however, Ratchet lurched forward from his seat and planted his hands on Sideswipe’s shoulders.

          “Don’t even think about it!” Ratchet scolded. “I know you said you didn’t feel any pain the first time, but I’m not going to chance it by having you transform twice in less than ten minutes. Wait a little while longer. Preferably until the morning.”

          Sideswipe sat back down with a whine. His ear flaps drooped forward, and he gave Ratchet the most piteous expression he could manage. 

          “You really think the ‘I’m such a sad puppy’ look is going to work?” Sunstreaker asked, moving up besides Ratchet, his plating just settling after his transformation back to root form.

 _Show off,_ Sideswipe retorted sulkily.

          “It’s not half bad actually,” Ratchet mused, crossing his arms over his chassis and considering Sideswipe. “Maybe we should call you exhibit A at the trial tomorrow.”

          Sideswipe got to his feet, sniffing haughtily. **You never know; maybe we’ll win the trial on my cuteness alone.**

          Ratchet threw back his head and laughed, Sunstreaker taking a surprised step back as the guffaws continued. 

          “Oh… Red…” Ratchet finally managed, still smiling. “I’ll have to discuss that with FirstTier. Maybe we can work something out.”

 _Should I be insulted?_ Sideswipe asked, bemused.

 _Absolutely,_ Sunstreaker replied, a small grin forming on his faceplates.

          “Anyway…” Ratchet said. “We don’t have to be at the courthouse until later in the morning, although we do want to be sure we get plenty of rest. Is there anything you want to do before heading to bed?”

 **Cuddle!** Sideswipe immediately said, bouncing on his feet sideways as his tail balancer wagged wildly.

          “I see we have one vote for cuddle,” Ratchet said, raising an eyebrow ridge. “Sunny?”

          “Maybe later,” Sunstreaker said, taking a step away from Ratchet, his optics traveling slowly down Ratchet’s frame. Sideswipe cocked his head to the side in curiosity as he felt Sunstreaker’s focus narrow in on Ratchet. “How about a repaint?”

          Ratchet’s optics spiraled in and out with surprise. “A… a repaint? Of who?”

          “You, obviously,” Sunstreaker said, circling Ratchet. “Sides and I could use a touchup, but your coloring is atrocious, and you have nicks and scratches everywhere.” He pointed out several such marks on Ratchet’s chestplate and arms.

          Sideswipe sidled close and nosed at a shallow dent just above Ratchet’s right knee. **Sunny’s right. Not the atrocious bit; I’m actually not even really sure what that word means. Sunny likes his vocabulary lessons a little too much, if you ask me. But you could really use a touchup at least, especially if we’re supposed to impress a jury tomorrow.**

          “I… well… are you…?” Ratchet sputtered, looking from Sideswipe to Sunstreaker.

          “I’ll take that as a yes,” Sunstreaker announced and hooked a hand around Ratchet’s elbow. “Come into my studio.”

          Sideswipe bemusedly followed behind as Sunstreaker practically dragged their guardian after him, protesting the whole way.

          Well. Not as good as a cuddle, but definitely interesting.

 

End Chapter 27


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker gets to exercise his skillz. And one day, the trial will happen. But not in this chapter ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the 1st 2014 chapter of Puppy Love; I had hoped to have finished PL by now and be far into its sequel, but alas, that's life. 
> 
> One apology about this chapter - originally it was much longer and I had to stop it somewhere. It's a slightly abrupt ending (not a cliff hanger), so I'm sorry about that.

                Sunstreaker leisurely emerged from recharge, one system after the other slowly booting up. When his optics came online, he continued to keep them shuttered, instead luxuriating in the soft surface beneath him and the warmth along his side.

                “I know you’re awake,” a voice whispered into his audio sensor. Wetness bathed the edges and Sunstreaker shivered minutely.

                “I’m not. You’re just a stray line of code,” Sunstreaker murmured.

                The warmth shifted and lightly resettled, weight redistributing across his chassis and thighs. The wetness moved, smoothing down his jaw to brush against the corner of his forming frown.  

                “That’s a mean thing to say,” Sideswipe chided. “And I’m not going to scratch you; calm down.”

                Sunstreaker finally cracked his optics to see Sideswipe staring back at him, chin propped on the forearm that rested across Sunstreaker’s chest.

                “You’d better not,” Sunstreaker replied, optics automatically scanning the visual sections of their frames for any blemishes that might have accumulated through the night.

                “You changed back,” Sunstreaker commented idly.

                Sideswipe nodded. “We fit together better that way,” he said, gesturing to the bed.

                “If Ratchet asks…”

                Sideswipe gently pushed himself off Sunstreaker, stretching his arms above his head as he sat up. “I waited until the morning.”

                Sunstreaker frowned and guessed. “You waited until one minute after midnight.”

                “Maybe,” Sideswipe replied, drawling the vowel sound out. He glanced over his shoulder and down at his twin, sly look about his optics. “Technically no longer night at that point, right?”

                “Semantics,” Sunstreaker replied, still frowning. Not that he himself had been any better at following their trainers’ commands, but Sideswipe had always done it in the sneakiest way possible. He was a master at twisting other people’s words to find loopholes. It bothered Sunstreaker a little that Sideswipe was still doing it, even with Ratchet.

                “Mmm,” Sideswipe said, shrugging. “I wanted to cuddle with you.”

                “I’m surprised you didn’t molest me in my recharge,” Sunstreaker said, sitting up as well and throwing his feet over the side of the bed. He twisted from one side to the other, enjoying the stretch of tension wires and cables.

                Last night, Sideswipe had been pretty adamant about interfacing as a canine. And Sunstreaker had definitely been tempted, especially with the increasingly detailed images Sideswipe had been creating. But he had known interfacing would invariably lead to one of them scratching his work, and he had denied request after request from his twin.

                “You worked really hard last night,” Sideswipe replied nonchalantly as he scooted down the bed in order to stand. “Didn’t want to ruin it. We can always try again some other time.”

                “That’s… oddly mature of you,” Sunstreaker replied, optics widening in astonishment. ‘Instant gratification’ was pretty much the best descriptor of Sideswipe’s personality type.

                Sideswipe stretched his arms straight out behind him and strained to get them as high as possible before letting them drop with a pleased grunt. “I’m trying out that whole ‘acting like an adult’ thing. How am I doing so far?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

                “Good. You’re doing good,” Sunstreaker murmured, standing. His optics searched Sideswipe’s faceplates for signs that his brother was joking, but Sunstreaker couldn’t find any.

                 Sideswipe took a step forward the same time that Sunstreaker did, and they ended up standing only a foot apart. Sunstreaker continued to study Sideswipe’s features as warmth gradually suffused Sunstreaker’s frame, originating from his chest. He was pleasantly surprised that Sideswipe had taken Sunstreaker’s scolding last night to spark.

                “I’m doing ‘well’,” Sideswipe corrected. His ridiculous, lopsided grin was still in place, and Sunstreaker couldn’t help but find it endearing.

                Sunstreaker took the final step forward, placing his hands on Sideswipe’s hips and slotting their frames together. They were close enough now that Sideswipe’s ventilations bathed Sunstreaker’s faceplates and vice versa. He paused for an indeterminate time, unhurried, and watched Sideswipe’s smile slip away, a curious expression forming in its place as he studied Sunstreaker.

                Sunstreaker leaned forward, brushing his lips against the side of Sideswipe’s mouth. When Sideswipe tried to turn his head to chase after Sunstreaker’s lipplates, he pressed his cheek against Sideswipe’s. There was only the barest hitch in Sideswipe’s ventilations as pressure was applied to the healing cheek strut. Satisfied, Sunstreaker placed a light kiss over the injury’s location.

                “I want you to spike me tonight,” Sunstreaker murmured, nuzzling forward until his lips bumped against Sideswipe’s audio.

                Sideswipe stilled for a long moment before his hands rose to settle on Sunstreaker’s waist, fingers squeezing gently.

                “Yeah?” he replied. “Gonna make you scream, Sunny,” he promised, letting his head fall backwards and to the side. Sunstreaker’s head bent in perfect unison, and he carefully nibbled at the edge of Sideswipe’s neck plating, his glossa tingling with the taste of freshly applied wax.

                “Or howl,” Sunstreaker suggested. Sideswipe shuddered at the implication, a small noise escaping him. His hands twitched in an aborted movement against Sunstreaker’s waist. Sunstreaker smirked; he knew this had to be pushing Sideswipe’s patience, but he seemed content enough to follow Sunstreaker’s lead.

                Sunstreaker placed one last kiss on the side of Sideswipe’s neck before reluctantly drawing backwards. Sideswipe’s head moved back to its normal position, his optic shutters slowly opening. Sunstreaker was pleased to note that Sideswipe’s optics were dark and unfocused with lust.

                “Is this positive reinforcement? Act like an adult and get a reward?” Sideswipe inquired, his vocalizer spitting a hint of static. There was a click as he rebooted it and continued speaking. “Cuz I’m good with that.”

                “Maybe,” Sunstreaker replied, drawing out the vowel sound just as Sideswipe had earlier.

                Sideswipe grinned again, the whole expression lighting up his faceplates. For one bright, shining moment, Sunstreaker felt like he had never loved his twin more. He felt an answering grin lift the corners of his mouth and for several moments, they just stood there, smiling at one another.

                Their smiles didn’t fade when moments later, Ratchet knocked and then slid their bedroom door aside in one smooth movement.

                He paused, staring at them, as they turned their heads in unison to face their guardian.

                “What are you… no. No, I’m not going to ask,” Ratchet said, holding up a hand and shaking his head. “I came to see if you two were up yet, and you obviously are. Should I leave you alone for a while longer, or would you like to get breakfast?”

                And just like that, the spell was broken. They turned and shifted away from one another only for Sideswipe to immediately lean back in, slinging an arm over Sunstreaker’s shoulders. 

                “You’ll scratch me!” Sunstreaker hissed, irritably shrugging Sideswipe’s arm off and doing his best to inspect the area.

                “Maybe later,” Sideswipe said and winked. Sunstreaker pointedly took a step away from his twin.

                “Breakfast sounds great, Ratch!” Sideswipe exclaimed, turning his attention to their Caretaker. “Ooh! Someone’s looking pretty this morning!”

                Ratchet ducked his head and averted his optics, obviously embarrassed, especially when Sideswipe ran an approving finger down Ratchet’s arm before enfolding him in a hug.

                “I look the same as I did last night when Sunstreaker finished with me!” Ratchet protested, his voice muffled against Sideswipe’s shoulder. Sideswipe released him from the embrace, but slid an arm around his waist and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. As he did, Sunstreaker carefully studied Ratchet’s frame for any blemishes. Seeing none, he nodded in satisfaction.

                “Which is to say: ‘excellent’,” Sunstreaker said, once again admiring the new placement of Ratchet’s red and whites. There was much more red than there had been before; considering how frequently Ratchet was exposed to grime, Sunstreaker had figured it would be better to remove as much of the dirt-showing white as possible. He had also highlighted the overall paint scheme with delicate touches of yellow and black, barely visible unless one was standing close, but optic-catching none the less.

                After Sunstreaker had finished last night, he had ushered Ratchet into the washracks and placed him in front of the full length mirror. Ratchet had stood there silently for several minutes. While waiting for Ratchet’s response, Sunstreaker had felt his anxiety grow and grow.

                He had never painted another frame besides Sideswipe’s and his own, and it wasn’t as if he had much experience doing so. But the colors and their placement had felt right, and the brush and other tools had felt good in his hands. It had actually been a peaceful experience for him; absorbing himself in the work as his companions’ voices had floated around him. Between the three of them, he had nearly depleted his entire stock of paints, but he had thought the end result was more than worth it.

                “Well?” Sunstreaker had finally demanded as the silence stretched on.

 _He looks great_ , Sideswipe had supplied, leaning against Sunstreaker’s leg and looking up with adoring optics. Sunstreaker had thrown his brother a grateful look, but even though he knew Sideswipe would be honest with him on something so important to Sunstreaker, it was Ratchet’s opinion that truly mattered.

                Ratchet had finally turned to face Sunstreaker, optics wide. “I… I’ve never looked this good in my life. You… Sunny…,” he had shaken his head, gesturing first to Sunstreaker and then the mirror. “ _Sweetspark_ … you have a _gift_.”

                Sunstreaker had trembled in place at the endearment, almost sagging in relief. “It’s all right? You like it? Really?”

                “Sunstreaker, I _love_ it!” Ratchet had exclaimed. He had started to rush forward with outstretched arms, but Sunstreaker had backed away, alarmed.

                “No!” he had scolded. “You need at least another hour for the polish to set properly.”

                Ratchet’s arms had dropped to his side, but his proud expression did as much for Sunstreaker as a hug would have. “How did you even know how to do this?”

                Sunstreaker had shrugged. “Smokescreen gave me some articles when I asked him about it.”

                After that, Ratchet had taken them upstairs to show off Sunstreaker’s work and to thank Smokescreen for encouraging Sunstreaker’s interests. Smokey, Prowl, and Bluestreak had all ooh’d and ahh’d over the new paint job, while Ratchet had beamed proudly at Sunstreaker the entire time.

               Well. Smokescreen and Bluestreak had ooh’d and ahh’d. Prowl had merely nodded approvingly and smiled, a strange glint in his optics as he looked over Ratchet’s new colors.

               They had taken their leave shortly after; it had been late, and they still had a trial to deal with in the morning. Ratchet had kept gingerly touching himself on his chest and arms on the way down to their apartment, almost as if he still couldn’t believe it. So Sunstreaker had stood in Ratchet’s doorway for several minutes as he instructed Ratchet how best to care for the new paint job. The entire time, Ratchet had sat on his couch-bed and nodded in the right spots, a soft smile on his faceplates.

               Finally, Sunstreaker had run out of steam and had bid Ratchet good night, Sideswipe a silent shadow padding behind him as they had gone to their own room. As soon as he had shut the door, Sideswipe had crowded close, optics alight with interest, and glossa sneaking little swipes of whatever pieces of Sunstreaker he could reach.

               Sunstreaker had fought his brother off, more than once, as they had crawled into bed. Exhaustion had been making itself known, especially after Ratchet had approved his work. Sideswipe had still been whining and sending him detailed images of everything he could do with his canine glossa as Sunstreaker drifted into recharge.

               So it was no surprise that Sunstreaker was a little charged up this morning. Sideswipe had a vivid imagination, and Sunstreaker was more than willing to indulge it; providing, of course, they had a proper time and space in which to do so. Right after a re-paint or minutes before breakfast was not the appropriate time. Tonight, after the trial, would be a much better opportunity. If things went well, it would be a nice celebration between the two of them. And if things went poorly, well, they could distract one another with pleasure. Win-win.

               Sunstreaker met Sideswipe’s glance before his brother followed Ratchet out of the room. Sideswipe’s optics were still lust-dark, and Sunstreaker couldn’t help but feel a little vindicated. It was only fair, considering how much Sideswipe had tortured him last night with the various images and heady scent of arousal. It was why Sunstreaker had transformed so quickly after FirstTier had left; it was either that or give into Sideswipe’s suggestions then and there.

               “How are you feeling today?” Ratchet asked when Sideswipe turned back around after shutting the apartment door closed. Ratchet reached up to gently prod at the side of Sideswipe’s face.

               “Fine,” Sideswipe replied, leaning into the touch. “A minor ache, but only when you press real hard.”

               Ratchet’s hand dropped back down to his side, and he nodded approvingly. “Good. That’s healing well. Quick too.” His optics moved from Sideswipe and then over to Sunstreaker.

              “Well, what spark-stopping activities do _you_ have in store for me, hmm? Sideswipe’s been injured three times in a row now, surely you’re due?” Ratchet asked dryly.

              Sunstreaker raised an orbital ridge at Ratchet. “Sideswipe’s accident-prone; I’m much more graceful – don’t!” he warned as Sideswipe mock growled and took a step forward.

              “Mmm, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ratchet said with a chuckle. “Oh, FirstTier commed me not too long ago; nothing has changed from last night,” Ratchet informed them. 

              “Is this thing going to be finished today?” Sideswipe inquired after sticking his glossa out at his twin. Sunstreaker merely smirked in response.

              Ratchet shrugged, a wry expression on his faceplates. “I hope so. FirstTier seemed to think it would go pretty quickly: our testimonies, as well as Prowl’s and Wheeljack’s, should be enough to convict him.”

              “What about the mech who attacked us here?” Sunstreaker asked, flashing back to the feel of Sideswipe’s energon slicking his fingers.

              “They never caught him,” Ratchet said with a grimace.

              Sunstreaker came to a halt on the stairs just below the second floor. “What!?”

              Ratchet hushed him, and gestured for him to keep going. “Jazz told me that they lost the trail a few streets away. That’s not going to be the focus of the trial today.”

              “But didn’t Prowl say that there had been like, six attempts on your life?” Sideswipe asked. He sidled a little closer to Ratchet as they entered the apartment lobby, looking around suspiciously. Sunstreaker felt himself tensing as he too extended all his senses.

              Ratchet sighed. “Yes. But there’s no way to tie them back to TopNotch. They can’t prosecute without proof. You two,” he said, pointing between Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, “are living proof that TopNotch was a dog fighter. We should have enough for him to be sent to prison.”

              “Yeah, but how long will he be there before he gets back out? I’m sure he’s not going to get enough time to be more than a slap on the wrist. I should have ripped out his throat when I had the chance,” Sunstreaker growled menacingly.

             Ratchet came to a dead stop, and Sunstreaker barely avoided running into him. Sideswipe danced backwards, blinking surprised optics as Ratchet whirled around.

             “You are _done_ with that,” Ratchet hissed. “You’re better than that. Both of you,” he said, pointing at first Sunstreaker, then Sideswipe.

              Sideswipe raised an inquisitive optic ridge at Sunstreaker and then stepped forward to place a calming hand on Ratchet’s outstretched, shaking arm.

             “Yeah. Of course, Ratchet,” Sideswipe soothed. “It’s just an expression; Sunny was just…”

              Sunstreaker felt his anger drain away as it became clear just how much his words had upset their Caretaker.

              “No! You would have killed Ironhide the other night, Sideswipe. It made me realize just how much…” Ratchet shook his head. “All the things they made you do… the things you _learned_ to do…” his voice trailed off, his tone one of despair.

              Sideswipe looked up and jerked his head at Sunstreaker in an obvious ‘get over here’ gesture. Sunstreaker felt his figurative tail tuck between his legs as he moved forward, slinking into Ratchet’s space.

              “I wouldn’t… I’d…” Sunstreaker said, each word halting and hesitant as he fought to find something that would reassure Ratchet. “I would never hurt you.”

              Ratchet’s head shot up so quickly that Sunstreaker flinched. “Oh, bitlet. I didn’t mean… I’ve _never_ been afraid of you,” he said earnestly. “ _For_ you… all the time, yes,” he said with a wrecked-sounding chuckle.

 _What did I do?!_ Sunstreaker demanded of his twin. Ratchet had been fine until Sunstreaker had opened his big, fat mouth.

 _Frag if I know,_ Sideswipe answered, daring to slide an arm around Ratchet’s waist .

             “You didn’t… you didn’t even deny it, Sideswipe,” Ratchet murmured, half turning to rest his chin on Sideswipe’s shoulder as soon as they were close enough.

             “Deny wha…? Oh,” Sideswipe said in sudden realization. Sunstreaker felt his brother flounder, as much at a loss as Sunstreaker was.

             "I… he… I thought he had been hurting you,” Sideswipe offered, optics begging Sunstreaker for assistance. Too bad Sunstreaker had no idea how to help.

             “I know you did. But you…” Ratchet trailed off with a sighed ventilation. “Mechs don’t _do_ that. Most don’t anyway. And the ones that do wind up in prison for a very long time. Or deactivated.”

             “So… you’re saying… don’t… get caught?” Sideswipe questioned.

             Ratchet abruptly pulled away, a horrified expression on his faceplates.

             Sideswipe’s hands rose up, and he grinned sheepishly. “I’m kidding! I’m just kidding,” he protested as Ratchet’s optic ridges drew down in anger. “Bad timing, I get that. We know right from wrong, Ratchet,” Sideswipe said, reaching out to grasp Ratchet’s hands.

            “We may not always _choose_ to do the right thing, but we’re learning. We just…” and his optics rose to meet Sunstreaker’s before sliding back to Ratchet’s faceplates. “… we think of what you would do.”

             Sunstreaker nodded rapidly, willing Ratchet to believe them.

             Ratchet tilted his head to study Sideswipe’s earnest expression, his own blank. Then he snorted. “So you think I prank all my professors in my free time?” he asked, shoulders relaxing a fraction.

            “I think you have hidden depths we haven’t yet seen,” Sideswipe returned, winking an optic. Sunstreaker could have kissed his brother; with just a few words, he had managed to diffuse the situation and bring Ratchet down from his trembling anger.

            Ruefully shaking his head, Ratchet dropped one of Sideswipe’s hands to tug Sunstreaker closer.  He leaned against Ratchet’s shoulder, exchanging a relieved glance with Sideswipe over Ratchet’s head.

            “TopNotch may not be in prison long,” Ratchet admitted. “That’s _if_ he’s convicted. And it will be utterly and completely unfair because he almost destroyed two of the most brightest and beautiful sparks I’ve had a chance to meet in my lifetime,” Ratchet said, squeezing each twin in turn. Sunstreaker felt a surge of embarrassed warmth at their Caretaker’s words, and Sunstreaker hid his faceplates against the side of Ratchet’s neck.

            “Unfortunately, the law occasionally works that way. Sometimes the final verdict isn’t fair. But neither is it right to take matters into your own hands. Don’t get me wrong; I’d like nothing more than to dismantle TopNotch into pieces for the things he made you do and the things he _almost_ did to you,” he said with a shudder.

            “But I have to trust that things will work out ok. We got some good mechs on our side,” Ratchet said as Sideswipe wormed his way beneath Ratchet’s other arm.

            “It’ll be ok; as long as we’re with you,” Sideswipe agreed.

 

~ End

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting settled in at the courthouse; tempers run high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, you guys, this chapter fought me every word, every sentence, every paragraph. *So* many revisions have happened , and I'm still not completely happy with it, but I think it's as good as it's going to get

     They huddled together for several moments just outside the rec room until a polite cough from behind them made both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe jerk their heads up in surprise.

     “Good morning,” Mirage said, hands clasped lightly in front of him as he glanced between them and the door.

     “Oh! Sorry!” Ratchet exclaimed, hurriedly extricating himself from their pile and moving to the side.

     Sunstreaker couldn’t help but glare a little as Mirage moved past them. This was the mech that Jazz had said no one ever got away from; yet the attacker that had injured Sideswipe was still out there somewhere.

     “It is no bother,” the Enforcer said softly. “Good luck today; everyone at the station wishes you the best outcome.”

     “Well, we appreciate that,” Ratchet said, following Mirage into the rec room, the twins trailing along behind. “Will you be attending the hearing?”

     Mirage shook his head. “I will not. I understand that Prowl, Bluestreak, and Ironhide will be in attendance, however.”

     “Ironhide and I will escort you there!” Bluestreak cheerfully piped up from his seat next to his cousins.

     “Oh, yay,” Sunstreaker heard Sideswipe murmur. Sunstreaker had to agree with Sideswipe’s sentiment; things with Ironhide were still awkward and Sunstreaker wasn’t a fan of Bluestreak’s babbling.

     “Optimus plans on attending a portion of the hearing as well,” Prowl added as he stood to place his empty cube in the nearest recycling receptacle.

     They moved up behind Mirage as he finished gathering his morning energon. “That will be nice; you two haven’t met the Chief yet,” Ratchet said in an aside to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker as he began filling their three cubes.

     “You should leave directly after finishing your energon,” Prowl told them. “That will give you sufficient time to make it to the courthouse.”

     “Yeah?” Sideswipe questioned with a grin, taking a sip from the cube Ratchet had given him. “You can predict that?”

     Sunstreaker watched Prowl’s optics flicker briefly, and then the Enforcer nodded. “With a 93.8% certainty.”

     Sideswipe stared at Prowl for a long moment before shaking his head with a laugh. “You’re weird, Prowl. But I still like you.”

     The enforcer looked taken back for a moment. “I… thank you,” he said cautiously as Sideswipe wandered off and took Prowl’s former seat.

     Bluestreak brightened as Sideswipe approached, and they soon struck up a conversation that involved a lot of hand waving on Sideswipe’s part. Sunstreaker watched his brother for a moment; Sideswipe seemed to have an eager audience whenever the mechling was around. Well, as long as it shut the sharpshooter up, Sunstreaker was fine with it.

     Sunstreaker turned back to Ratchet to hear him finish up a comment to Prowl.

     “… just worried,” Ratchet said, staring into the depths of his cube.

     “It is a possibility,” Prowl admitted. “But it is out of your hands, so there is no need to spend too much processing power on the issue.”

     “Mmm. I suppose you’re right,” Ratchet said.

     Sunstreaker could tell that Ratchet wouldn’t be able to stop worrying until the final verdict was read later this afternoon. He wouldn’t give up Ratchet for anything, but he also wished that their caretaker hadn’t been so negatively affected by their entry into his life.

     Hoping to take Ratchet’s processor off the trial for just a little while, he moved up behind Ratchet and bent to murmur into his audial.

     “Can we ask about the apprenticeships?”

     Ratchet’s head turned, and he looked up at Sunstreaker, optics quizzical. A moment later, his face brightened as he remembered.

      “Absolutely. Go ahead,” he said, gesturing at Prowl.

     Sunstreaker was suddenly faced with the Enforcer’s politely expectant stare as Ratchet clapped Sunstreaker on the shoulder and then walked away, towards Sideswipe’s and Bluestreak’s table. Sunstreaker longingly stared after his caretaker before reluctantly turning back to Prowl.

     “Um. Sideswipe and me were talking the other day…”

     “’Sideswipe and I’,” Prowl said, interrupting.

     Sunstreaker blinked at the Enforcer, uncomprehending.

     Prowl smiled just a little, his lipplates quirking up at the corners. Absently, Sunstreaker had the thought that Prowl should do that more often. He was actually a very attractive mech, but his normally blank face plates were pretty uninviting.

     “The correct phrase is ‘Sideswipe and I’,” Prowl said, elaborating.

     “Oh. Alright. Well, Sideswipe and _I_ were thinking about apprenticeships. But we’re not sure how to go about getting one. We thought you might know.”

     “Hmm. Yes, you are not far off majority,” Prowl said, nodding. “Some apprenticeships will begin at this age, as long as there is guardian approval.”

     “Ratchet said yes,” Sunstreaker hurried to add.

     Prowl’s helm tilted a little to the side. “What type of apprenticeships are you looking for? I’m not sure that there would be much, if any, available for two mechs…”

     “We don’t have to be together,” Sunstreaker said, although the thought did fill him with a little unease. “Sideswipe says he isn’t picky, although maybe something to do with numbers? I… I wouldn’t mind something to do with the art field,” he said, optics dropping shyly.

     “Art and perhaps business,” Prowl mused, tapping a finger against his chin. Sunstreaker was thankful that the Enforcer didn’t comment on the art field request; it was embarrassing enough to admit to Sideswipe and Ratchet.

     “I will look into it for you,” Prowl said decisively. “And I’m sure Jazz will help; between the two of us, I believe we can find some good opportunities.”

     Sunstreaker exvented a draught of air he didn’t even know he had been holding on to. “Thanks, Prowl. We really appreciate it,” he said, knowing without looking that Sideswipe was gratefully staring in Prowl’s direction. 

     “I am glad to be of assistance,” Prowl said. “Now go ahead and join your family; you wouldn’t want to be late.”

     Prowl nodded once at Sunstreaker and then caught Bluestreak’s attention with a small wave. The sharpshooter excused himself from the table and together the cousins walked out of the room to linger in the lobby, conversing lowly with each other. Sunstreaker finally shook himself out of his dazed state and strolled over to join Ratchet and his brother. 

     Family. It was such an odd word to hear spoken aloud, especially by someone outside of their little circle.

     Sunstreaker really liked the sound of it.

\--

     The walk to the courthouse was both awkward and entertaining.

     As they were leaving the building, Bluestreak had bid them farewell in order to take to the rooftops. Prowl had departed to the Precinct for some last minute paperwork, promising he would meet them at the courthouse before the trial started.

     Which left the four of them - Ratchet, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Ironhide – standing in a tense circle on the sidewalk. An awkward silence descended, and Sunstreaker feared that they would remain like this forever, none of them willing to speak or otherwise attract attention to themselves.

     Ratchet turned out to be the bravest of them all, which after Sunstreaker thought about it, didn’t really surprise him.

     “Well!” Ratchet exclaimed, slapping his hands together decisively. “We don’t want to ruin Prowl’s statistical analysis, right? Let’s get going; I know it’s a bit of a long walk.”

     “You know, we wouldn’t _have_ to walk if we had vehicle alt modes,” Sideswipe said innocently.

     “Yes, Sideswipe. I am aware that your life would be so much easier with an alt mode,” Ratchet returned, long-suffering. “And I’d probably have twice as many spark-attacks,” he grumbled, mostly to himself.

     Sunstreaker hid a smile. Ratchet was probably right, especially considering Sideswipe’s tendency for boredom and love of thrills. Not that Sunstreaker was inclined to sit at home and watch vids all day either.

     “’Round this area, Hopper’s is the best for variety in alt modes,” Ironhide offered.

     Sunstreaker glanced over his shoulder at Ironhide with a wary surprise. The Enforcer was trailing behind them a few steps, gaze watchful as he scanned the surrounding area.

     “Oh?” Ratchet asked. “I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe schedule something in a few days.”

     “Yes!” Sideswipe crowed, throwing a fist in the air and spinning around to skip backwards. “Thanks ‘Hide!”

     He grinned at the Enforcer for a total of two seconds before he remembered that he was supposed to be mad with Ironhide. Then the smile dropped and a faint scowl replaced it. But Sideswipe could never stay angry for long, especially if his spark wasn’t in it. Moments later, Sunstreaker watched his brother begin grinning again, excitement over the prospect of their alt modes thrumming across their bond.

     Sunstreaker was a little excited as well. Interfacing certainly burned off some of their pent up energy, and once their training with Ironhide resumed, they would have yet another outlet. But both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe yearned for even more physical activities, especially those that pushed their limits. Sunstreaker had no doubt that he and his brother would end up picking an alt model that was one of the fastest on the market.

\--

     The walk to the courthouse took almost forty minutes, but they arrived with time to spare. One by one, they went through the security checkpoint, getting scanned for weapons and stamped with temporary identifiers. Sunstreaker had to be cajoled through the checkpoint, the yellow twin glaring at the guard as he burned the stamp onto the underside of Sunstreaker’s wrist.

     “Not even a full day!” Sunstreaker growled as he showed off the blemish on his paintjob at the other side of the security gate.

     “You can barely see it.  And your nanities will have repaired it by tonight,” Ratchet remarked, wisely choosing not to mention how he was mourning the flaw to his own new finish.

     “It’s not the same,” Sunstreaker said, frowning as he accepted Sideswipe’s soothing pats to the back. Ratchet privately thought that Sunstreaker pulled off a pout even better than Sideswipe could.

     Ironhide snorted, lips quirked in amusement. “Prissy little thing, ain’t ya?”

     First Tier chose that moment to walk up to them, a distracted air about him. He didn’t seem to notice the abrupt increase in tension among their group.

     “The start time hasn’t changed,” the lawyer reported in greeting, datapad held in the crook of his arm. “Let me show you to your seats.”

     Without another word, he turned and began walking down the first hallway, not even checking to see if they were following.

     “I’ll show you prissy,” Sunstreaker growled, completely ignoring the lawyer coming and going. His hands clenched into fists, and he took a menacing step forward. Ratchet quickly stepped between his ward and Ironhide, placing a hand on the vibrating yellow chest to try and push him back. Ironhide didn’t help matters by taking a challenging step forward himself.

     “Behave yourselves! Sideswipe, follow him!” Ratchet hissed, waving after the retreating lawyer. He hoped the red twin wouldn’t get involved too, because trying to hold Sunstreaker back felt as if Ratchet were pushing against a building. Sideswipe thankfully seemed uninterested in joining his brother; instead, he took a step back, crossing his arms over his chassis and raising an orbital ridge.

     “Awww, but I want to see Sunny and ‘Hide _fight_. In the _courthouse_. Twenty minutes before the _trial_ starts,” he said, each statement becoming more and more pointed. It was enough to catch the posturing mechs’ attentions.

     Sunstreaker blinked, shooting a glance at his brother, before sneering at Ironhide. The Enforcer took on a sheepish air, rubbing the back of his head and looking down at the floor.

     “We wasn’t gonna fight,” he mumbled.

     “That’s right. You weren’t,” Ratchet snapped, glaring between Sunstreaker and Ironhide. Over Ironhide’s shoulder, he saw the security guard staring at them curiously.

     “Is there a problem?” First Tier called, pausing halfway down the hall with a concerned expression on his faceplates.

     Ratchet shook his head, feeling embarrassment warm his lines. “No!” he called back, tugging on Sunstreaker’s elbow. “We’re coming.”

     Sideswipe snorted, shaking his head. “Well, this is off to a great start.”

\--

     Ratchet made sure to keep the twins in front of him and Ironhide behind as they caught up with the lawyer. For the entire length of the hall, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe gestured at each other, their conversation silent as they kept it over their private bond. Sunstreaker’s expression was set in a scowl, Sideswipe’s bemused, and Ratchet wondered what they were saying to one another.

     “Fighting amongst yourselves is not a good way to start this off,” First Tier said quietly as they came within speaking distance.

     Sideswipe wordlessly gestured at the lawyer, looking significantly at his brother. Sunstreaker merely grunted and crossed his arms over his chest.

     “It was nothing,” Ratchet hurried to say. “We’re fine.”

     First Tier narrowed his optics and pursed his lipplates. “Mmmm. I hope so. Follow me,” he said finally, gesturing with his head towards the set of double doors he stood in front of. He pushed open one and indicated for them to enter.

     Sideswipe went in first, looking around with frank curiosity. Sunstreaker took everything in with a glance, appearing aloof and bored. Ratchet vowed to speak with his errant ward as seen as they were alone; the trial was a cause of stress for all of them, but Sunstreaker’s behavior was starting to get out of hand.

     First Tier began leading them down the center aisle, passing row after row of seats. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker trailed behind, the red twin excitedly pointing at things around the room.

     Ratchet paused as Ironhide stepped to the side of the door, instead of following their little party to the front of the room.

     “Ironhide?” Ratchet ventured.

     The Enforcer waved a hand through the air. “I ain’t a witness. You go on,” he said. “I’ll be back here if ya need me. And, uh… sorry ‘bout earlier.”

     He wouldn’t quite meet Ratchet’s optics, obviously embarrassed.

     Frowning a little, Ratchet nodded and hurried to join the twins as FirstTier showed them their seats. Ratchet supposed that another conversation with Ironhide was warranted, but now was not the time.

     “This is the witness section for the prosecution,” FirstTier said as Ratchet sat down next to Sideswipe. “Wheeljack and Prowl should be arriving shortly. I’ll be seated up there,” he said, gesturing at one of two small tables just beyond a railing that separated the rows of seats from the front of the room.

     “The defense lawyer will be there,” he said, pointing to the opposite table, “and TopNotch there.”

     First Tier gestured at the same row of seats they were in, but across the middle aisle. Ratchet frowned again. He had thought that First Tier would be seated separately from the rest of the room, much like the judge and jury. He didn’t know how he felt about sitting so close to the mech who had almost destroyed his wards.

     Before Ratchet could ask another question, Sideswipe spoke up.

     “Sunny, move down two,” the red twin instructed, gently pushing Sunstreaker’s shoulder.

     “Why?” Sunstreaker demanded. Irritation practically radiated off his frame. 

     “’Jack and Prowl are gonna need a place to sit too,” Sideswipe pointed out.  

     Exventing an annoyed sigh, Sunstreaker stood and walked a few paces to the left. In an uncharacteristic move, he gracelessly plopped down in the new chair, slouching against the back of it.

     “And keeping some distance between those two would be nice as well,” Sideswipe murmured too quietly for anyone but Ratchet to hear. 

     Ratchet grimaced, flashing back to the sight of Sunstreaker’s teeth around TopNotch’s throat. Ratchet prayed the twins would behave themselves, but he also wasn’t going to discount their tempers. Sunstreaker’s already seemed to be running high today.

     “First come, first serve!” Sunstreaker grumbled as Sideswipe stood over the seat next to his twin. “And why are you hogging Ratchet?”

     “I’m not hogging him!” Sideswipe retorted, exasperated. “You came in first, he came in last.”

     “There’s an easy solution,” Ratchet said with a huff of amusement. “Here, Sides, switch… yeah. Does this work better?” Ratchet asked after manhandling Sideswipe into Ratchet’s former seat. He now had a twin on either side of him, which is how they seemed to prefer it while they were at home.

     A strange look came over Sunstreaker’s faceplates as leaned forward enough to look around Ratchet’s body at Sideswipe. Sunstreaker hesitated a moment before speaking.

     “It’s fine,” he said, his posture screaming the opposite.

     “Now who’s the sparkling?” Sideswipe muttered. He nudged Ratchet while gesturing between him and Sunstreaker. “Ratch – switch back to that seat, Sunny – you come to the middle; I’ll take the other end. Come on, let’s go, before this thing is over with!”

     Bemusedly, Ratchet stood and let Sideswipe slither by, Sunstreaker scooting over to sit in Ratchet’s abandoned chair. When they had all settled, Sunstreaker contentedly leaned back in his seat, placidly watching mechs trickle into the courtroom.

     “Are you all quite done?” First Tier asked from where he had stepped back to watch their maneuvering.

     Sunstreaker arched an orbital ridge as if to challenge the lawyer to comment further. “Quite,” he replied. Now with Sideswipe on one side of him, Ratchet on the other, and Ironhide left at the back of the room, Sunstreaker seemed much more at ease. Ratchet hoped it would ease some of his irritability.

     “Well, as long as you’re comfortable,” First Tier said doubtfully. “It should only be another fifteen minutes or so. The jury and judge will enter right on the hour.”

     “Where’s ‘Notch?” Sideswipe inquired.

     “He’ll be escorted in after the jury is seated,” First Tier said. “I would like to look over my notes one final time. Will you be alright if I do that?”

     “We’ll be fine,” Ratchet said, shooing the lawyer away. “You’re not far; if we need you, we’ll come get you.”

     With one last considering glance, First Tier moved went through the gate dividing the audience seats from the lawyer’s tables.

     “And he’s the best we could get?” Sunstreaker muttered.

     “Sunny! I know this is stressful, but I’ve had just about enough of your attitude today,” Ratchet exclaimed, giving his ward a chiding look. Sunstreaker dropped his optics and fidgeted.

     “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m just…” He trailed off, looking frustrated.

     Ratchet sighed, leaning over to place a kiss against Sunstreaker’s cheek. Sideswipe leaned into his brother from the other side, optics sympathetic.

     “I know. It’s alright. Just tone it down a little, ok?”

     Sunstreaker nodded, drawing himself up a little. “I’ll try,” he promised.

     Some of the tension bled out of his posture, and he began looking around the room, showing more interest in his surroundings.

     He snorted when his survey of the room turned back towards the doors they had entered through.

     “Your friend’s here,” he announced, grinning.

 

~ End


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheeljack unknowingly plays comic relief. Prowl is awesome. The testimonies (finally) begin!

               Ratchet turned in his seat and followed Sunstreaker’s gaze; what the vet saw made him grin.

               Wheeljack was making his way down the center aisle, bumping into mechs left and right. His attention was solely on the contents of the data pad he held in his hands, his helms fins flashing in an excited rhythm.

               “Pardon me… _yes,_ excellent! Oh! I’m sorry, excuse me, thank you…” Ratchet heard Wheeljack mumbling as he came closer. The engineering student was so absorbed in what he was reading that he probably would have kept right on going if Ratchet hadn’t called out.

               “’Jack!” Ratchet said, raising his voice and smiling fondly.

               Wheeljack’s head darted up, looking around in confusion before his optics landed on the three of them.

               “Ratch! You would not believe the results I’m getting on this experiment,” Wheeljack gushed, entering their row and sliding into the seat next to Ratchet’s. “I made a fuel mixture of 75% energon, 20% diesel, and 5% ethnogel and gave it to this drone. Just look at its energy readings!”

               Ratchet reared back a little as the datapad was shoved under his nasal plates.

               “That’s… really great, ‘Jack,” Ratchet said, his optics spiraling in to focus on the column of scrolling numbers. He honestly had no idea what he was looking at.

               “I know!” Wheeljack exclaimed, pulling the pad back and excitedly entering in notes on the side. “They said it couldn’t be done, that the diesel and energon would combust after 350 Kelvin, and that certainly is true no matter what ratio you use, but the ethnogel I created is managing to control the temperature spikes and make for an overall slower burn and…”

               Ratchet felt a light pressure against his arm, and he turned to see Sunstreaker leaning forward, unabashedly staring at Wheeljack. Amusingly, Sideswipe was nearly halfway out of his seat, craning his head around Sunstreaker’s body to also gape at the engineering student.

               Sideswipe saw Ratchet looking at them. “Is he for real?” he whispered.

               A wry grin stretched Ratchet’s lipplates. “100%,” he replied, recalling past similar one-sided conversations between himself and Wheeljack.

               Sunstreaker’s nasal plates wrinkled in displeasure, and Sideswipe returned to gawking. “He’s a _perfect_ match for Blue… oh, hey Prowl!” Sideswipe said, abruptly clearing his intake in a fake cough as the Enforcer suddenly appeared at the end of their row.

               “Heya, Prowl,” Wheeljack said, absently looking up for a split second. Then his attention immediately turned back down to his notes. “ _Five_ hours! The drone’s been going for five hours!! This is unheard of…” he trailed off, jabbing at the data pad.

               “You made good time! I think they’re just about to start,” Sideswipe remarked to Prowl, leaning back in his seat and grinning.

               “We saved a seat for you,” Ratchet hesitantly offered, suddenly regretting not putting Wheeljack on the opposite end of their little group.

               Prowl stared down at the empty seat for a long moment. His expression never once strayed from neutrality, but Ratchet got the distinct impression that Prowl would have preferred to sit anywhere else but next to Wheeljack.

               “Thank you,” the Enforcer finally said and lowered himself into the seat, his sensory panels arching high and outwards to accommodate the low-backed chair.

               “Huh,” Sideswipe commented, after watching the maneuver. “Bet those get in the way sometimes; why do you even have them?”

               “Data input,” Prowl replied. “And yes, on occasion their presence can be problematic, but the benefits outweigh the risks.”

               “Disadvantage in a fight though, aren’t they?” Sunstreaker asked. Ratchet watched as Sunstreaker’s optics traveled over the large appendages. The yellow twin’s gaze was narrowed and calculating.

               “Again, they can be. Less so, if you’re a skilled combatant,” Prowl replied.

               “And are you?” Sunstreaker bluntly asked.

               Ratchet shut his optics for a brief moment, sending a prayer out to Primus to give him strength when dealing with tactless wards.

               Prowl chuckled. Ratchet’s optic shutters flew open, and he stared in surprise at the Enforcer over Wheeljack’s bent helm.

               “Would you like it if I joined one of your sessions with Ironhide and showed you?”

               “Pit, yeah!” Sideswipe exclaimed after exchanging a glance with his brother. “We want to see and learn as many fighting styles as possible!”

               “I will arrange a time with Ironhide,” Prowl promised, nodding.

               “Now, you should be quiet; the judge is entering the room,” he said. He pointed at a small green mech who had just walked through a nondescript door nearly obscured by the raised dais at the front of the room.

               The judge walked up the steps to the dais and sat down behind a large, desk-like podium. At his nod, a tall, thin, dark brown mech held the same door open for a group of mechs and femmes. They filed in and seated themselves on seats in an area cordoned off from the rest of the room by a railing.

               “That is Angle,” Prowl said in a low voice. “He is a very fair and just judge, at least from my past experience. The bailiff, Rough Node, is the one leading the jurors in.”

               “I thought the jury made the final decision?” Sunstreaker asked, leaning around Ratchet’s back to ask the question. Ratchet listened with half an audial as he tried to match the jurors to the descriptions First Tier had given him.

               “Yes, you are correct,” Prowl answered. “But he ensures that the proceedings go smoothly with no bias towards either the defense or prosecution.”

               “I wouldn’t mind a little bias towards our side,” Ratchet muttered to himself. Judging by the snort next to him, Sunstreaker heard it as well. He put out a hand and captured Ratchet’s, squeezing gently.

               Smiling, Ratchet took his other hand and placed it atop Sunstreaker’s. Ratchet brought their laced fingers up to his mouth and placed a kiss along Sunstreaker’s knuckles.

               “Not that we need it, right?” Ratchet asked, glancing sidelong at the yellow twin.

               He was so surprised by the snarl that Sunstreaker wore that Ratchet jumped in place. And then winced, gasping, when Sunstreaker’s hand tightened around Ratchet’s fingers.

               Ratchet looked up, following Sunstreaker’s optics to see TopNotch being led into the room. He wasn’t restrained in any way, and his finish looked pristine. As he walked towards his seat, he smiled and waved at someone in the audience rows. Right before sitting, he glanced over and winked one optic in their direction before facing forward, donning an attentive air. Ratchet could feel a snarl of his own forming.

               Then he caught motion out of the corner of his vision; First Tier was subtly waving at them, optics narrowed in warning. Huffing an annoyed ex-vent, Ratchet turned in his seat, placing a hand on Sunstreaker’s knee.

               “Sunny,” Ratchet said, keeping his voice light. “That’s a bit too tight.”

               Sunstreaker jerked, hastily releasing Ratchet’s hand with a guilty expression. “Sorry,” he said, helm ducking down.

               “It’s fine. I’m not happy to see him either, but we have to do our best to ignore him or he’s already won.”

               Sideswipe leaned in from Sunstreaker’s other side, denta worrying his bottom lip. “He doesn’t look nervous at all! He’s been in jail for the past few weeks; shouldn’t he be more nervous?”

               Ratchet thought that Sideswipe made a good point, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud.  Not when both twins were obviously on edge.

               “Shh,” Prowl admonished, and Ratchet realized that the Enforcer was in the process of standing. So was everyone else in the courtroom, and Ratchet quickly followed suit, indicating for the twins to do so as well.

                “…the honorable judge Angle presiding in the case of City-State Nova Lathem versus private citizen TopNotch,” the bailiff announced.

               Wheeljack still had his faceplates buried in his datapad, mumbling to himself. Ratchet quickly snatched the ‘pad from Wheeljack’s grip, his other hand laying a quieting finger against Wheeljack’s lipplates. Silently, Ratchet jerked his head, gesturing for Wheeljack to get up.

               The indignant expression faded from Wheeljack’s faceplates and turned into one of sheepishness. ‘Sorry’, he mouthed and made to stand.

               “Please be seated!”

               Wheeljack popped up just as everyone else was beginning to sit.

               “Back down, back down!” Ratchet hissed to his friend, ignoring the chuckles from the twins and the odd looks from the mechs behind them.

               “Well, I wish they’d make up their minds!” Wheeljack muttered, plopping back down into his seat. “First Tier never said anything about exercise.”

               “It is a sign of respect to stand when the judge is introduced,” Prowl offered, his lipplates twisted with just the slightest hint of displeasure. 

               “Can I have my ‘pad back?” Wheeljack asked, making grabby hands towards the device.

               “ _No_. Primus, it’s like I have a third youngling,” Ratchet replied, toggling the datapad’s power switch to the ‘off’ position and placing the appliance into his subspace.

               “But I just wanted…”

               “Hush!” Prowl hissed. Wheeljack sunk down into his chair, optics dejected.

               “… and welcome,” Angle was saying. “We’ll start with the prosecution. Do you have an opening statement, First Tier?”

               “I do, sir,” First Tier replied, standing and making his way around his table. He paused in front of the judge’s dais, inclining his head in a respectful nod. Then he made his way over to stand in front of the jury.

               “Today, we bring multiple charges against private citizen TopNotch. It is my responsibility to present facts supporting our accusations. It is _your_ responsibility to decide if the defendant is guilty or innocent of these charges; to do that, you must make your decision without bias and without emotion. Considering the charges, that may be difficult to do so, but take your time and deliberate amongst yourselves before coming to a verdict.”

               Ratchet was impressed; First Tier spoke in a quiet yet commanding voice, his tone level and pleasant. He spoke simply and slowly enough for everyone to understand him. Ratchet hadn’t had much experience with lawyers before this whole debacle, but his opinion of theirs was certainly rising.

               First Tier slowly began pacing in front of the jury section, holding each juror’s optics for a few seconds before letting his gaze continue to the next.

               “The charges against TopNotch include illegal dog fighting, mechanoid trafficking, particularly that of sparklings, illegal inhibition of mechanoid alt mode transformation, sparkling abuse, and attempted murder.”

               Ratchet blinked rapidly at First Tier’s last words. Ducking his head, Ratchet leaned across Wheeljack’s lap, touching Prowl’s elbow to get his attention.

               “He said we couldn’t charge for attempted murder, that there wasn’t a way to connect the break-in to TopNotch,” Ratchet whispered.

               “Correct. But we have multiple testimonies collaborating that TopNotch attempted euthanasia on Sideswipe,” Prowl replied, speaking out of the corner of his mouth while still keeping his optics on the front of the room. “Conviction on that charge however, hinges on whether we can prove TopNotch was aware of their true forms.”

               “But the inhibitor chip proves that, doesn’t it?” Wheeljack asked.  He slouched down in his seat to more easily take part in the conversation. Ratchet was happy to note that his friend’s attention was now solely in the courtroom instead of concerned with a far off experiment.

               “It proves that the twins were inhibited. It does not prove that TopNotch knew about it,” Prowl said, shaking his head. “That is First Tier’s responsibility - to create doubt in the jurors’ processors about Top Notch’s testimony. Because be assured, he will deny any and all knowledge that the twins were not, in fact, true dogs.”

               “What are you all whispering about?” Sunstreaker asked, poking his head over Ratchet’s shoulder.

               Ratchet quickly sat back, trying to include both twins in their conversation. “I was just surprised by the attempted murder charge; that pertains to you, Sideswipe,” he added.

               “Oh. Yeah,” Sideswipe said thoughtfully. “That. Yeah, that would have sucked.”

               “… and with that, I call my first witness to the stand. Private citizen youngling Sunstreaker, will you please come forward?” First Tier’s voice rang out in the courtroom, and Ratchet’s head shot up to stare at the lawyer in shock.

               “Ratchet?” Sunstreaker questioned, sounding very small and uncertain. It was so unlike the normally confident twin that Ratchet’s spark spasmed in sympathy. “I thought you were first?”

               “I… I was _supposed_ to be,” Ratchet answered, glancing at Prowl for an answer. The Enforcer shook his head slightly.

               “I didn’t know. He may have decided to change his approach at the last minute.”

               “Sunstreaker,” First Tier said, walking up to the railing and leaning over it slightly. He wore a small, reassuring smile as he beckoned with one hand. “Just follow me up; it’ll be alright.”

               The yellow twin made an aborted movement to stand and then glanced at Ratchet, optics a little wide. Ratchet smiled encouragingly at his ward. Now wasn’t the time to question the lawyer, especially when Sunstreaker was seeking support. But First Tier could bet that Ratchet would be addressing the issue as soon as he was able; after spending so many hours hammering out details with them, it seemed counterproductive for First Tier to shake things up at the last minute.

               “It’s ok. We’ll be right here. Remember: stay calm, answer the questions honestly,” Ratchet said, parroting First Tier’s instructions from days ago. “I love you.”

               “Go get ‘em, bro,” Sideswipe added, clapping his brother on the shoulder. Sunstreaker stood, visibly donning his aloof façade like an additional armor.

               As soon as Sunstreaker was out of hearing range, Sideswipe slid over into Sunstreaker’s seat, bending to whisper into Ratchet’s audial.

               “What is he _doing_? Sunny is freaking out – he thought he would be speaking the least, after both of us,” Sideswipe hissed.

               “I have no idea,” Ratchet answered truthfully. “But Sunny will be fine. He certainly paid more attention to First Tier’s lectures than you did.”

               Sideswipe’s mouth opened and then snapped back shut. “True.”

               They both turned to watch Sunstreaker walk into the witness box and take a seat on the chair there. First Tier nodded at the judge again before taking a few steps back and addressing Sunstreaker.

               “State your designation for the record, please.”

               “Sunstreaker.”

               “And your age?” First Tier asked.

                A hint of uncertainty flashed across Sunstreaker’s expression as he frowned. “I’m classified as a youngling, but I don’t know my emergence date.”

                “And why is that?”

                Sunstreaker hesitated a moment before speaking. Ratchet empathized; none of these questions were what they had prepped for.

                “Well, we were too young to know, and no one else is around who was there.”

                First Tier nodded thoughtfully, clasping his hands behind his back and beginning to slowly pace to and fro in front of the witness box.

                “Normally creators would tell you this information. Do you know who your creators are? Their designations, anything about them?”

                Sunstreaker slowly shook his head. “No.”

                “No, what?” First Tier asked, small smile on his faceplates as he darted a meaningful glance at Sunstreaker.

                The yellow twin huffed, almost imperceptibly, before elaborating. “No, I don’t know their designations or anything about my creators.”

                “Thank you for clarifying. You mentioned ‘we’. What do you mean by that?”

                “My brother and I. Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker replied, pointing. The jury as a whole turned, some craning their heads to look at the red twin.

                First Tier looked over in their direction, nodding thoughtfully. Next to him, Ratchet felt Sideswipe straighten a little, small smile on his face he waved to the jury.

                “Are you frame brothers? Was Sideswipe too young to remember also?”

                “No,” Sunstreaker said, giving the lawyer an odd look. Ratchet felt one of his own optical ridges rise in confusion; First Tier knew very well that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were twins. “We’re split-spark twins; we’re the same age.”

                A small murmur started in the jury box and spread throughout the room. Ratchet glanced around to see some mechs whispering excitedly to their neighbors.

               “That’s very rare,” First Tier commented. He turned to face the jury. “Only one in 500,000 sparklings split their sparks; nearly 90% of those twins die within the first few days of emergence.

               “I’m very glad that you two at least, have escaped that fate,” First Tier said, smiling widely first at Sunstreaker and then Sideswipe.

               “Uh… so are we,” Sunstreaker replied, looking a little puzzled. The lawyer had never once been anything but polite with them, so the friendliness was a little odd, even to Ratchet who wasn’t the recipient of it. More courtroom tactics, Ratchet surmised.

               “So you do not know who your creators were, or anything about them. Let me ask you, then. What is the first thing you remember?”

 

 

~ End Chapter

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker recounts his earliest memories and the twins' training under TopNotch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait - this chapter has been written for months, but part of a 15k (and growing!) scene that has been difficult to break up into chapters. But I found a way to break it into a good sized chapter.  
> *Potentially triggery for dog abuse.

                 Sunstreaker stared blankly at First Tier.

                “What do you mean? When?” Sunstreaker finally questioned, shifting on the rather uncomfortable stool. The witness stand box was raised, cramped, and otherwise only contained the aforementioned torture device of a chair and a small, waist-high swinging door at the back as an entrance/exit.

                Even as a dog, Sunstreaker hadn’t been a fan of mechs staring at him. He had gradually learned how to slink so that the light hit his curves just right, how to prolong a bout for audience satisfaction. But he had never enjoyed it. Sideswipe was the one had been, and still was, the exhibitionist.

                So sitting here, under the gazes of ten jurors, a blank-faced judge, and a good four dozen spectators was a little unnerving. He wished he knew why he had been called to the stand now; the plan had been for Ratchet to be up first, then Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker last. Calling the most anti-social member of their family first to the stand didn’t seem like the best way to start out; then again, he wasn’t a lawyer. Maybe First Tier had some last second information that forced him to change the plan.

                “When you onlined as a sparkling… what is the first thing you remember?”

                Unconsciously, Sunstreaker’s orbital ridges furrowed. What kind of a question was that? Was he supposed to even have memories that far back?

                “I don’t…” Sunstreaker trailed off, shaking his head. Was this a trick question?

                He looked once more to Ratchet, who looked as confused as Sunstreaker was. Their guardian sat next to the fidgeting form of his brother, who had moved over as soon as Sunstreaker took the stand. Sideswipe saw him looking and gave him a gentle, encouraging pulse across their bond. They did that from time to time; just a wordless reassurance that the other was still there.

                Sunstreaker narrowed his optics at Sideswipe as his processor rapidly filtered through files in reverse chronological order. He was surprised by the amount of memory that he found. Even so, the earlier the files, the more corrupted they were, spotty and unclear. But there was something…

                “Sunstreaker? Do you have any memory of that time?” First Tier’s voice asked, breaking through Sunstreaker’s focus.

                “Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker replied, causing his brother to cock his head to the side in an inquisitive manner. “I remember Sideswipe.”

                First Tier nodded thoughtfully, a finger tapping at the top edge of the data pad that he was cradling in his arms. “How so?”

                Sunstreaker opened his mouth and then paused, optics blinking rapidly. How could he even begin to describe it? The file was disjointed, confusing, mostly consisting of sensation and instinct.

                “I remember… space. Around me… above me…” Sunstreaker said slowly. “It was cold… and empty… everywhere. Except… except off to my side.”

Sunstreaker’s arm lifted and gestured vaguely to his left as his processor tried to make sense of the degraded file. His optics dimmed, his gaze lowering to the floor. Around him, the colors of the courtroom walls and furnishings faded as he dropped down into the memory.

                “What was there? Off to your side?” First Tier questioned. His voice was soft, sounding vaguely muffled.

                “It was… me. But… _not_ me. A… a part of me… yet separate. There were… noises… surrounding me. Except there… it was silent. Expectant… as if _waiting_ on me… And it…” Sunstreaker trailed off, shaking his head. He looked up, catching Sideswipe’s optics, “… _he_ was quiet and warm and right… while everything else around me… was loud and cold and wrong.

                “That’s what I first remember… that’s how I first remember Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker finished.

Off to the side in the jury box, a noise made him look up. A femme down in front was holding her hand to her mouth, optics wide. When Sunstreaker looked out across the courtroom, he noticed several other mechs and femmes staring at him in rapt attention.

                Ratchet had the look about him that usually proceeded him reaching forward to pull one or both of them into a hug. And Sideswipe… Sideswipe was looking at him with the smallest of smiles on his lipplates, his end of the bond practically vibrating.

                “Do you remember your Carrier?” First Tier asked, breaking through the soft haze surrounding Sunstreaker.

                “My Carrier?” Sunstreaker searched his memory banks again. “I think… maybe? We were moved and put somewhere warm. Sideswipe was with me… and it was…safe. I think… I think that was our carrier.”

                “Do you remember much after that?” First Tier asked.

                Sunstreaker shivered suddenly. “I… not really. More sounds, louder sounds. The warmth… faded, until eventually it went away completely. Then it was cold again, cold except for Sideswipe.”

                He looked up, almost surprised to find himself still in the courtroom. In a way, he was glad; the room around him was warm and colorful. Not like that memory where everything was shadowy except for the bright spot at his side.

                “What about later? Do you remember other mechs and femmes?” First Tier inquired.

                Frowning, Sunstreaker shook his head. “With certainty? Only Sideswipe. There were voices… echoing and distorted; I can’t make out the words. There was cold, always cold, and pain… hollowness,” Sunstreaker said, frowning.

                “I can’t… can’t recall more than that,” Sunstreaker said, frustration coloring his tone. Why did the lawyer have to go and even bring this all up? Now Sunstreaker was irritated at the gaps in his files.

                “That’s all right,” First Tier said soothingly. “Let me ask you this… what is your first complete memory? At the time, you may not have understood what was happening, might not have known the words the mechs around you were speaking. But now you could recall it as if you are there once more.”

                It took a moment, but Sunstreaker’s processor helpfully provided him with a file. He flinched as he reviewed it, and out of the corner of his optic he saw Ratchet jerk in an aborted movement. Sunstreaker knew that Ratchet wanted to keep them safe; unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do to protect them from a memory.

                “They separated us,” Sunstreaker said flatly. “I don’t know who or why. Or even where we were. I just remember the feeling of hands lifting me up and taking me away. Out of a room, into a hallway, past other doors. There’s growling and barking in the background, but I can barely hear it because Sideswipe is screaming.”

                Sunstreaker paused, blinking his optics rapidly at the next realization. “So was I.”

                There were several loud gasps across the courtroom as First Tier nodded. “Do you remember after that?”

                “Just… _pain_ ,” Sunstreaker whispered, his hand unconsciously coming up to rub at the armor covering his spark. The echoes of that agonizing separation made him shiver.

                “It seemed to last forever, but eventually… the hands carried me back. Once they put us together, the pain faded. But we were lifted again, carried out of the room, into the hallway…”

                Sunstreaker stilled, his head cocked to the side as he reviewed the early bit of the file once more.

                “… _different_ hallway. Somewhere with less light. They took us into a room, laid us down, and it was warm again. Something moved against us, covered us.” Sunstreaker’s orbital ridges furrowed as he did his best to really examine the memory.

                “A dog. It was a _dog_. They put us with a bitch and her pups!” Sunstreaker exclaimed, raising indignant optics to Sideswipe.

Sideswipe slowly nodded, his optics a little hazy as he explored his own recollections. There was a surge of fondness from his brother that confused Sunstreaker for a moment. Then he realized; that bitch had welcomed them into her litter. She had cared for them as if they were her own.

                First Tier’s expression turned slightly horrified. “You and your brother were placed with a dog?”

                Nodding rapidly, Sunstreaker continued. “Yeah. I thought the memories immediately following that were degraded, but they’re actually from the first time I transformed. It took some time to get used to the different sensory input.

               “We _imitated_ her. After a while, we thought we were hers. That’s how you got us to transform,” Sunstreaker said, turning accusing optics to TopNotch.

 _Holy slag. I never realized that until now. You gotta admit_ , Sideswipe said, sounding reluctantly admiring, _that was a pretty clever idea_.

               Top Notch looked politely confused, but Sunstreaker knew it was all just a mask. He wanted so badly to leap over the stupid box surrounding him and rip the mech’s spark out of his chest. He only refrained after he caught a glimpse of both Wheeljack and Sideswipe clamping hands down onto Ratchet’s shoulders; apparently Sunstreaker wasn’t the only one furious at the revelation. A quick glance at the jury box revealed more than a few expressions of dismay there as well.

               First Tier cleared his intake, smoothing his expression back out to one of bland interest. “So you and Sideswipe were placed with a surrogate. After some time passed, you forgot these earlier memory files, and identified yourselves as canines. From that point, your transformation to your secondary forms naturally occurred. What happened after that?”

               Still fuming over Top Notch’s actions, it took a few moments for Sunstreaker to filter through the older memories.

               “I’m not sure how long we were with the bitch. It was… it was actually… nice,” Sunstreaker admitted. “We were together, it was warm, we were fed… no one was hurting us.

                “But it didn’t last. The hands came back; I didn’t want to go. But we had barely learned to walk a few days prior, and they caught us easily. They brought us to a room that was filled with bright lights. They… did something… a sedative maybe? I got dizzy, couldn’t move. They did something to my head…” Sunstreaker raised an arm and unconsciously rubbed the back of his helm.

                “When I woke back up, I was with Sideswipe… but not the bitch. Our first collars were around our necks. After that… that’s when they began training us.”

                 First Tier tilted his head to the side. “Training you how?”

                “Commands, mostly,” Sunstreaker said, shrugging. “Sit, stay, come… they didn’t give us energon for a while, using it to motivate us. The commands were easy enough to understand; we thought we were dogs, but we were still smarter than most canines.”

                “What did the collars do?”

                Sunstreaker frowned, recalling the early burn and sting of the damned things. “They were shock collars, triggered by a remote. Once we got the basics down… that’s when they started training us in submission.”

                “Can you clarify?”

                Sunstreaker narrowed his optics at the lawyer, annoyance simmering beneath the surface. “Sure. I can clarify:

                “If we didn’t do exactly what they ordered, they shocked us. If we didn’t respond to a command quickly enough, they shocked us.  If we recharged too long, they shocked us. If we growled or snapped, they shocked us. If…” Sunstreaker trailed off at First Tier’s up held hand.

                “Yes, I think we understand,” First Tier said, expression still carefully blank, even as several hushed murmurs sprung up in the audience. “Did you do anything to fight back?”

                Sunstreaker scoffed. “Yeah. At first. The collars hurt, but we could still function through the pain. We even managed to bite them on a few occasions, not like it did much good as young as we were. But then they got smart; they started shocking just one of us at a time, at double and triple the charge. ”

                Sunstreaker’s optics flicked over to his brother. “We stopped after that.”

                “Was there more to your training?” First Tier inquired.

                “Plenty more,” Sunstreaker replied. “After they made sure we understood pain and incentive, they taught us to fight.”

                “How did they do that?”

                “It took a while,” Sunstreaker admitted, recalling shouting trainers and more pain. “We didn’t understand exactly what they wanted us to do. After all, we were punished if we fought _them_.

                “They started out by starving us for days, and then they put another dog in with us; expected us to kill it over the energon, I guess. We didn’t. We were two against one; it was easy for one of us to guard while the other ate and then switch out.

                “When that didn’t work, they repeated it… added in more dogs, bait drones. They were starved too. That was our first fight,” Sunstreaker said, optics dimming as he remembered the screams and growls.

                “We didn’t want to hurt them,” Sunstreaker said, lowering his helm to stare at the clenched fists in his lap. “But we hadn’t eaten in days… It was… chaotic.”

                Sunstreaker shuddered, gratefully accepting the reassuring pulses from his twin and clutching at Sideswipe along their bond. He had forgotten that first fight, the panic and fear that nearly overwhelmed their processors at seeing the other dogs rip each other apart.

                “Did you win?” First Tier asked gently.

                Sunstreaker snorted, looking back up. “Pits, no. Those dogs were bigger, even more desperate than we were. We backed down after one of them nearly took Sides’ foot off.”

               “Did your trainers attempt that tactic again?”

                “Yeah. A few times. We’d try, but…” Sunstreaker said, shaking his head, “... we were scared. We were young. We weren’t truly canines so we didn’t even have instinct to go on.”

                First Tier’s head cocked to the side, his expression becoming curious. “Then how…”

                Sunstreaaker's lipplates quirked. “How did they get us to fight back? To _really_ fight back? They _separated_ us,” Sunstreaker spat with a snarl.

               “They put Sideswipe in with another dog. A true fighter, not just another pitiful bait beast. A dog trained to kill as soon as it entered the ring. And that’s what it tried to do,” Sunstreaker explained, voice hard.

              “Sideswipe didn’t stand a chance. Neither would have I, if it had been me,” he said with an apologetic look to his twin. Sunstreaker very carefully refused to look at Ratchet; even out of the corner of one optic, Sunstreaker could see their guardian visibly shaking.

               “The dog had ripped open Sides’ belly and was trying to tear out his throat when they finally let me in the room. I remember clawing at the door to get to him, panicked. He was hurt so badly and was so scared… it was all I could feel. I needed to get to him, make it _stop_ ,” Sunstreaker whispered, shutting his optics.

               “They opened the door, and I… I killed it. A miracle, really; the other dog was so distracted with Sides that it didn’t even know I was there until I had my teeth around its neck.”

               Sunstreaker paused, ventilating deeply for a moment. When he opened his optics and glanced around, nearly the entire room was leaning forward, optics utterly focused on him. It was unnerving, but now that he had begun this horrible recollection of his earliest memories, he found that he couldn’t stop.

              “After that, I think it really sunk in that we would do anything for each other. In regards to training… nothing was as effective as separating us, hurting one of us while the other felt it.”

              First Tier was stock still, looking at Sunstreaker with an expression that had faded from blankness to one of sadness.

              There was a long pause as First Tier stared at him, and Sunstreaker waited for the next question. He hadn’t ever talked so much in his entire life, and it was exhausting. He hoped the questioning would be over soon; at this rate, the lawyer wouldn’t need to ask Sideswipe anything!

 

~ End Chapter


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunstreaker's testimony isn't quite over yet and the defense gets their turn to cross examine

           “So you learned to fight, to even kill,” First Tier said, after giving himself a shake. “How long did it take for you to be placed into a real bout?”

           “You mean in front of an audience?” At First Tier’s nod, Sunstreaker continued.

           “I’m not exactly sure. We both were injured pretty badly in those early ‘training sessions’. We had several close calls before we realized that we were supposed to fight on cue.”

           “Sunstreaker, were your fights always to the death?”

           “At first. We were more likely to disable the other fighters when we were together, so eventually they began putting us in ‘first blood’ fights too.”

           Sunstreaker’s forehelm creased. “Those audiences were different, now that I think about it. The kill fights were always in smaller, dirtier rings, with fewer mechs watching.”

           “Did you ever travel to your fights?”

           “We traveled some,” Sunstreaker said, nodding in confirmation.

           “Do you know where to?”

           Shaking his head, Sunstreaker frowned. “No. We were normally sedated for transport. And one ring pretty much looks like another.”

           First Tier nodded, beginning to pace once more. “Do you know how many years you were fought before meeting Ratchet, your current guardian?”

           Sunstreaker slowly shook his head. “No. Ratchet says we’re near majority, so the entire time we were sparklings and most of the time as younglings. But I don’t know an exact amount of time.” He didn’t mention that after those first few months, the passage of time didn’t matter other than surviving day to day.

           “That’s a long time, if you are near majority age,” First Tier commented. “Did your conditions ever improve?”

           “Some,” Sunstreaker replied, reluctantly nodding. “Once we learned what they wanted of us, they didn’t use the collars as much. They gave us energon again, usually every day. And they let us be together.”

           “’Be together’,” First Tier repeated. “That’s an interesting choice of words. From what I know of spark-split twins, their sparks have to merge and align frequently as they age. Was that allowed?”

           Sunstreaker’s engine rumbled, a low, unhappy sound. “A few times. Never enough. I think it was another way to keep us in line. The longer we were out of sync, the harder it was to resist.”

           “Were you ever able to transform back to your primary root forms before meeting Ratchet?”

           “No.”

           “Then how did you spark merge?”

           Sunstreaker jerked his head towards TopNotch. “He would have us brought into an isolation room when we started slowing down, losing fights. He told us we would be allowed to merge only if we continued to win. As soon as he left, it was as if something unlocked in our chests. And we would merge.”

           Shifting uncomfortably, Sunstreaker’s gaze lowered. Merging was a private thing, an intimate act that he desperately hoped would First Tier would ask no more about. He was embarrassed enough to have to mention it, much less describe the awkward positions they had had to arrange themselves in for their sparks to touch.

           Fortunately, the lawyer had latched on to a different line of code.

           “TopNotch spoke to you?” First Tier asked, sounding surprised.

           “Well, yeah. He was the only one who did,” Sunstreaker said, shooting a quick glare at their former owner.

           “He held conversations with you?”

           “One-sided, but yes. It’s not like we could talk back.”

           “But he _talked_ to you, not as an owner talking to a pet, but as one mech to another?” First Tier pressed.

           Sunstreaker transferred his glare to the lawyer. “Yes,” he growled. “He would scold us for losing fights and liked to call us his ‘abominations’.”

           “Was anyone else ever around when he spoke to you thusly?”

           His mouth opened and then snapped shut as Sunstreaker’s processor filtered his memories by conversations with TopNotch. “No.”

           “Did the defendant ever train you personally?”

           Sunstreaker’s sneered. “No. He never got his hands dirty.”

           First Tier nodded. “Your trainers then – how many were there?”

           “Dozens,” Sunstreaker said. “Never the same trainer for very long.”

           “Why was that?”

            Sunstreaker shrugged. “Don’t know.”

 _Because they began to realize something was different about us,_ Sideswipe said, _and when they said something to ‘Notch, he got rid of them_. Sunstreaker shot a sharp glance at his twin, before realizing his brother was probably right.

           “Maybe because they started to think we were more than just dogs? And when they brought it up, they were… dismissed?” Sunstreaker suggested.

           “Hmm. An interesting theory. Just a few more questions, Sunstreaker, and then I’ll be done. Can you describe your first encounter with Ratchet?”

           Sunstreaker scowled. “You might get more information from Sideswipe on that one – I had gotten scrapped in a fight the night before. It had been ages since our last merge so both of us were starting to lose our edge. I still won, but one of the dogs got in a lucky slice and ripped me open.  I knew that they sent a vet into see us, but I was sedated for most of it.”

           Or out of his processor in pain and fear, but they didn’t need to know that.

           “I will certainly ask your brother. Was there a veterinary medic on staff?”

            Sunstreaker shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Not an official one, anyway. A few of the trainers had some basic aid training, but usually there was a different vet every few weeks.”

            “I see. Since you were sedated for most of your first meeting with Ratchet, can you tell us any more about your next encounter with him?”

            “Uh… well, the next time we saw him, he wasn’t treating us. He and Wheeljack came to the fighting exhibition that was a month ago. Sideswipe kept hoping he was there to rescue us and whisk us away,” Sunstreaker said with a wry quirk to his lipplates. He shot a glance over to his brother and Ratchet and saw Sideswipe grinning at their guardian.

            “That would come later,” First Tier said with a small smile. “So you didn’t have any real interactions with Ratchet on that day. What about the next time?”

            Sunstreaker cleared his intake a little, looking to the side in embarrassment. “I was sedated for a lot of that one as well. Sides got beat up pretty badly, and they tried to separate us to treat him. The vets darted me… different vets than Ratchet. When I woke up, I was alone in one of the isolation rooms. I couldn’t feel Sideswipe nearby, but I could tell he wasn’t in pain anymore. I also scented Ratchet so I knew he had been there. A while later, TopNotch and one of the trainers tried to transport me out.

            “I attacked TopNotch trying to get away.”

            Sunstreaker paused, wondering exactly how much information he should supply. He knew part of First Tier’s plan had been to get the jurors to sympathize with their story. But he had already spoken about killing other dogs, so what came next probably wouldn’t surprise anyone. He hoped.

            “I had my teeth around his throat when Prowl and Ratchet found us. Ratchet convinced me to let him go. While Prowl was arresting him, TopNotch saw Ratchet and tried to attack. Prowl stopped him by shooting him in the shoulder.”

            Sunstreaker smirked at TopNotch, remembering the moment in fond detail. That had been the first point in Prowl’s favor.

            “We’ll be sure to get the detailed report from Prowl on that encounter,” First Tier said, nodding and checking something on his data pad.

            “And after TopNotch was arrested?” the lawyer prompted. “What happened then?”

            “Ratchet took me back to the Academy; he put me offline and repaired me. When I woke up, I transformed back,” Sunstreaker said.

             “So at that point, you could transform between canine and mech forms at will?” First Tier asked, seemingly surprised.

             “Yeah. Ratchet had said there was a chip on the back of our processors, inhibiting a lot of our abilities,” Sunstreaker explained.

              “Such as?”

              “Well, anything to do with transformation, of course. Also communication; we couldn’t access the broadwave signals to talk with anyone.”

                “So Ratchet found and removed this inhibitory chip, allowing you to transform back to your root form. What happened next?” First Tier inquired.

                Sunstreaker squirmed almost imperceptibly. “Uh, after… catching up… with Sides, Prowl came and took our statements. We stayed with Ratchet that night in his dormroom. When the YPS people came the next morning, Ratchet told them he was going to be our guardian.”

                "A happy ending to a rough beginning,” First Tier commented, smiling. “Well, thank you Sunstreaker. I’m sure some of that was difficult for you.”

                He turned to face the judge, once more nodding genteelly. “No further questions, your Honor.”

                First Tier began walking back to his table, and Sunstreaker half rose before remembering the other lawyer was also supposed to ask him questions now. He sank back onto the stool as a peach and white colored femme stood up from her seat and approached the witness stand.

                “Hello, Sunstreaker,” the femme said, coming to a stop a few steps away. “My designation is Data. I am representing our mutual acquaintance, TopNotch. Would you mind my asking you a few questions?” she inquired, smiling pleasantly.

                Sunstreaker considered her. She was slight and unobtrusive, probably only half his height. To be honest, he hadn’t even noticed her entering the room. Yet now that she was in front of him something about her set his denta on edge.

                “Go ahead,” he managed.

                “Thank you. Let me start by asking you… what do you know about spark splitting?”

                Taken back, Sunstreaker blinked at the lawyer for several moments before answering. “What do you mean?”

                “Well, it’s not a very common occurrence, as First Tier explained,” she said, gesturing to the prosecutor. “I was wondering what you knew about the process.”

                “I guess… I guess I don’t really know much. Just that it made Sideswipe and I,” Sunstreaker admitted. He had heard Ratchet mention a few things here and there, but nothing in detail. Only that Ratchet viewed their lives as a happy miracle.

                “I see. Well, then let me give you and our jury,” she said, inclining her head in the jury box’s direction, “a little more information.

                “When a normal sized spark splits, the two halves are too small to support life and they immediately extinguish. If two halves survive, it is because the original spark was much larger than average.

                “An offspring spark is so closely attached to their Carrier’s spark that measuring its size to predict a splitting is nearly impossible. Still with me?”

                Despite his initial misgivings about the lawyer, Sunstreaker found himself listening intently. He nodded for the lawyer to continue.

                “So unless the right conditions are met, split sparks very often perish, possibly even the cause of a larger than expected number of spontaneous abortions. As First Tier mentioned, we see living twins so rarely, especially with our species’ low reproductive rate. I believe that you and Sideswipe are one pair out of only three on the entire planet.”

                Sunstreaker blinked surprised optics at the lawyer before glancing at Ratchet inquisitively. Their guardian was staring at the back of Data’s head with narrowed optics. When he saw Sunstreaker looking, he nodded slightly.

                So Data was telling the truth then. Sunstreaker had known that twins were uncommon; but he hadn’t known they were _that_ rare.

                “So now you have a better understanding about the process. Let me ask you another question: You said your first memory was of the mech Sideswipe. Is this correct?” Data asked.

                Sunstreaker frowned, wondering why she was asking him to repeat himself. “Yes.”

                “Why do you think that is?”

                “Because… he’s my brother,” he replied slowly. What was she getting at?

                “I see,” Data replied. “You mentioned earlier,” she said, looking down at the data pad in her arms, “that you don’t remember your Carrier. There was a sensation, a possible memory that could have been your Carrier… but nothing definite.

                “You know… _I_ have a brother. He is older, and his designation is Heilo. And despite how close we are, how we were placed together as soon as I emerged, my first memory is of my Carrier. _Not_ my brother. The Carrier-sparkling bond is _very_ strong. Don’t you think it’s a little odd that you only remember Sideswipe? And not your Carrier?”

                Sunstreaker stared at the lawyer, getting a sinking feeling in his tanks.

                “No,” he finally replied. “I don’t find it odd that I remember Sideswipe. We share the same spark; that lasts forever. A Carrier only carries a sparkling for a little while; doesn’t that bond fade a little over time?”

                He glanced again at Ratchet, seeing him nod with an approving smile. Bolstered by that small gesture, Sunstreaker turned his attention back to the lawyer in front of him.

                “Ah, I see, I see,” she said chuckling. “That’s a good point. But… maybe it’s something else?

                “Did you know that in many areas of the planet, twins are thought to be a curse? An… abomination?” Data asked, the smile dropping from her faceplates. A glint formed in her optics that made Sunstreaker’s metaphorical hackles rise.

                At the hated word that TopNotch had always used, Sunstreaker felt his plating crawl. “No. I didn’t know that.”

                “Yes. Many cultures believe that the offspring spark was so large that it slowly drained the Carrier’s lifeforce over time until the final emergence proved too much for their weakened state. They would perish during the stress of the sparklings’ separation or shortly after. And the offspring, considered parasitic monsters, would have their sparks snuffed out, even before they were placed in a protoform.

                “Do you know what happened to your Carrier, Sunstreaker?” Data asked, head cocked to the side and optics wide with fake innocence.

                Sunstreaker heard the femme’s voice from far away, his lines burning with a frigid chill. “Top…” he said, having to pause to reboot his static-lazced vocalizer, “TopNotch told us that she died birthing us. That our Creator sold us right after.”

                More whispers started in the audience. An annoyed look flashed across Data’s faceplates before she could hide it. She then smiled, denta bared just slightly, before continuing on.

                “She died? Interesting. Do you think it’s possible that’s why you never formed a bond with her? Because you and your brother consumed her from the inside out, and she rejected you?”

                Sunstreaker reeled as if struck, mouth agape as he stared at the defense lawyer. Gasps and exclamations of shock erupted across the courtroom, and a reverberating growl came from Sideswipe’s direction.

                “You take that back!” Sideswipe shouted at the same time First Tier shot to his feet, calling out ‘objection!’

                Sunstreaker realized he was shivering, and he watched Ratchet throw his arms around Sideswipe in an effort to keep his twin from leaping over the railing that separated the witnesses from the lawyers and jurors.

                “Objection!” First Tier repeated. “Conjecture!”

                “Sit down! Red, sit!” Ratchet hissed, managing to shove Sideswipe back down into his chair. Even from this distance, Sunstreaker could see his brother shaking with anger. At the same time, he was sending Sunstreaker waves of love and support tinged with outrage and indignation. Sunstreaker was so dazed that he barely felt any of it.

                At a significant look and gesture from the judge, Data stepped back a pace. She gave an apologetic smile to Sunstreaker, but he wasn’t able to return it.

                Was what she said true? Did their Carrier die because of them?

                “I’m sorry. Sunstreaker…” Data said, “…let me rephrase the question. Do you remember your Carrier at all? With certainty?”

                Glaring at the femme, Sunstreaker gritted his denta and replied. “No.”

                “Do you remember your Creator?”

                “No.”

                “Do you know if either of them is alive?”

                Sunstreaker shook his head. “No.” He rather hoped the opposite for their Creator if what TopNotch had told them was true.

                Data studied him, optics narrowed in concentration. “There are a number of studies that have been performed on spark-split twins through the years. The living ones, I mean,” she commented after a long pause.

                “Twins’ life expectances are actually quite short – only a quarter of the average lifespan. Do you know why?” Data asked, expression gaining confidence as she turned to fully face Sunstreaker.

                Sunstreaker stared at the lawyer for a long moment, spark whirling in dread. He hated this lawyer with a passion normally reserved for TopNotch. He hated her and this courtroom and this trial, and he wanted to go _home_.

                “No,” he finally managed.

                Data’s chin raised, her optics gleaming triumphantly. “It’s a strain on a half spark, even one three quarters of normal size, to support a full frame. In addition, one half is always stronger than its twin. The second spark to emerge is usually the weakest, the most unstable. Both twins are prone to violence and insanity, but the younger sibling is always the one that succumbs to madness first. Which one are you, Sunstreaker?” she purred.

                Sunstreaker felt his fingers spasm, and he clenched them into fists in his lap. “Sideswipe emerged first,” he said, his voice emotionless.

                “Really?” she asked, sounding surprised. “Well, I suppose that makes sense, considering your incomplete memories. Twins are also prone to a great deal of glitches in their systems, making them easily confused and their recollections… suspect,” Data said, sending a meaningful look at the jury.

                “Well. I think that’s it for me,” the lawyer said, clapping her hands together and smiling cheerfully. “No further questions at this time, your Honor.”

 

 

~ End Chapter 32

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sideswipe's turn! And he's a bit of a chatter box.

                “Thank you. Sunstreaker, you may return to your seat,” Angle said, leaning over to peer down at Sunstreaker.  The judge’s faceplates were expressionless, but his optics shone with pity.

                Sunstreaker mutely nodded, stood, and pushed his way out of the witness stand box. He walked down the steps and across the open space in between the dais and the lawyers’ tables. It felt like he traveled miles instead of a few steps, his plating crawling with the stares of dozens of optics.

                He resolutely kept his gaze on the floor as he passed First Tier, stride gradually speeding up until he all but flew into the first row. Ratchet and Sideswipe were already standing, fidgeting in place as he approached.

                Ignoring Prowl’s and Wheeljack’s concerned expressions, Sunstreaker practically threw himself into Ratchet’s waiting embrace. He wound his arms around his guardian’s waist, ducking his faceplates against Ratchet’s shoulder. It was only then that Sunstreaker realized how hard he was shaking as his armor rattled against Ratchet’s.

                “I don’t like her,” Sunstreaker whispered into the side of Ratchet’s neck. Normally he would be horrified to show such weakness in front of anyone other than his brother or Ratchet, but this was different. Data’s questions and reveals were just too much. He wanted to crawl into Ratchet’s lap and never face the outside world again.

                “You did so well, Sunny,” Ratchet murmured, stroking the back of Sunstreaker’s neck.

                Sideswipe sidled up to Sunstreaker, enfolding him from behind. He remained silent, vibrating almost as badly. Silent, soothing pulses of love and calm flowed across the bond; Sunstreaker did his best to focus only on Sideswipe’s support and Ratchet’s comforting scent.

                “That was rough. Are you all right, Sunstreaker?” First Tier asked, leaning over the railing to speak quietly to them.

                Before Sunstreaker could reply, Ratchet pulled away. Sunstreaker had to stifle his needy whine at the loss.

                “What in the Pit was that?!” Ratchet hissed angrily. “How can that… that…” he threw up his hands, seemingly unable to find a word horrible enough to describe Data. “… how could she just stand there and insinuate that the twins had something to do with their Carrier’s passing?! The rumors about parasitic sparklings are nonsense!”

                “She’s trying to discredit them. The general public doesn’t know much about twins,” First Tier explained calmly. “She’s trying to cast doubt in the jurors’ minds about their origins, about their memories. Remember, I told you… these things can get ugly.”

                “ _I’m_ about to get ugly,” Ratchet muttered, shooting the other lawyer a glare.

                “Keep your temper,” First Tier urged. “Losing it isn’t going to help.”

                Ratchet just wordlessly growled and tugged Sunstreaker back into their seats. He noticed that Ratchet didn’t say anything to discredit Data’s information on the violence and insanity in twins. Was it true? Were they really going to die young because one of them, most likely Sunstreaker, was going to snap and fall into madness? He wanted to ask, but he just couldn’t bear to hear the answer.

                 Instead, Sunstreaker allowed Ratchet to tangle one of his hands between the medic’s, the shivering of his yellow plating beginning to slow now that he was back in Ratchet’s protective presence. It took a moment for Sunstreaker to realize that Sideswipe wasn’t sitting down; he was still standing, looking at Sunstreaker thoughtfully.

                “What?” Sunstreaker snapped, shaken. He could feel Sideswipe withdrawing from their bond, when all Sunstreaker wanted was the comfort of his twin.

                Sideswipe’s optics flared and then narrowed before he turned to look at First Tier. “Am I up next?”

                “I had you scheduled to be, but if you need to…”

                “No. Now. And ask me the same things you asked Sunny,” Sideswipe instructed.

                First Tier looked taken back. “Are you sure? That was a gamble on my part. I wanted an honest reaction about your memories; it’s why I didn’t discuss it with you before hand,” First Tier said apologetically to Sunstreaker.

                “Oh, I’ll be honest,” Sideswipe promised, optics sliding off to the side to look at Data.

                The femme was looking at them, gaze assessing. She focused in on Sunstreaker, and he lowered his head, optics slitting as he imagined every single way she could die beneath his hands and fangs. She wanted an insane, violent twin? He was more than happy to oblige.

                 Something must have shown in his gaze, because Data took a step back and sat down in her seat, nervously glancing over her shoulder.

                Sunstreaker smirked a little as the images continued to form in his processor. As such, he missed First Tier calling Sideswipe up to the stand.

                His brother moved into the witness box and sat on the stool, shooting a shy smile at the jurors. Somehow, Sideswipe managed to look completely at ease.

                “Please state your designation for the record.”

-

                “My designation is Sideswipe,” he replied, doing his best to keep a pleasant smile on his faceplates. He would much rather be snarling and ripping Data’s plating from her frame, but he would beat her and TopNotch one way or another.

                “And your age?”

                “Exact age unknown, but medically confirmed to be a youngling,” Sideswipe recited.

                First Tier blinked placid optics at him. “You are a twin, correct?”

                “Yup!” Sideswipe replied cheerfully. “Spark-split. My other half is Sunstreaker,” he said pointing at his brother a little reluctantly. Sunstreaker had had enough attention; Sideswipe could feel his twin hovering on the edge of emotional shutdown. It was worrisome, but Ratchet’s touch was grounding Sunstreaker, keeping him focused.

                “He’s the better looking one, but only by a little,” Sideswipe added with a grin. That earned him more than a few chuckles from both the jury and audience.

                Good. Let them see that there was more to him and his brother than just their violent past.

                “I’m not going to comment on that,” FirstTier said, smiling. “Sideswipe, I’m going to start by asking a lot of the same questions I asked your brother. Is that ok?”

                “Sure,” Sideswipe replied, nodding.

                “Very good. Alright, what is the first thing you can remember as a sparkling?”

                “Uh, well, it’s pretty similar to what Sunny remembered. I remember coldness. Coldness where before it had been warm; space around me when just before I had been encased. And light. A lot of light.”

                “And do you remember your brother?”

                Sideswipe paused, his optics narrowing as thought about it. “I can’t ever remember _not_ remembering Sunstreaker… if that makes any sense. Even when our spark separated, I knew he was nearby.

                “I was placed in a frame first. And as soon as I could, I opened my optics. I saw brightness, a painful light. I heard sounds that came and went, kinda like when your audios are rebooting after getting hit in the head. I was… _excited_. I wanted to see more, to hear more…” Sideswipe reported.

                “Then I got scared. Because even though the light eventually got less painful, the sounds grew louder and louder, more… harsh. And… it’s hard to explain…” Sideswipe hesitated.

                This wasn’t an act like the smiles and the joking. His memories were much more complete than Sunstreaker’s, but it was still hard to translate the experience of a minute-old sparkling into language everyone could understand.

                First Tier nodded encouragingly, gesturing with one hand. “Just try as best as you can. Very few mechs have ever heard a firsthand experience of twins emerging.”

                “Well… even though I wanted to explore everything more, a part of me was…” Sideswipe’s optics flickered up to Sunstreaker and then back to the jurors. Along their bond, Sunstreaker pulsed a wordless ball of curiosity.

                “The mechs around us were panicked; we weren’t supposed to be twins, so there was only one frame. Sunny didn’t have one, so he couldn’t move forward. He was…” Sideswipe’s optics narrowed again, and he looked up as if the answers to how to explain it best were on the ceiling.

                “…stuck? I don’t even think at that point I realized Sunny was Sunny. It was me… a _part_ of me… that just didn’t follow the rest of me. I was worried at first, but then I realized that he was safe; he was still part of Before… part of that warmth and closeness. And even thought I didn’t have a name for it at the time, I know that was our Carrier. She kept him until they found a frame for him.”

                “Do you remember Sunstreaker being placed into the frame?” First Tier asked, frank curiosity on his faceplates. Sideswipe suspected that the lawyer was as honestly interested as everyone else.

                “In a way… I kept looking around because amongst the light, there were shapes. Shapes of the mechs that moved and touched me; I don’t think my optics were functioning correctly that early. I didn’t see Sunny being moved, but I felt him. He was upset that he had been taken away from our Carrier. When he went into the frame, he was cold and scared. I remember that they picked me up and put me next to him and that was the first time I realized that even though he was me, he was also separate, his own mech.

                “I was so happy!” Sideswipe said, smiling faintly in remembrance. “I didn’t know who he was, or what he was, other than he was mine and we would always be together.”

                “What about after you two were placed together?” First Tier asked. “Do you remember what happened then?”

                “A little bit,” Sideswipe admitted. “We were given to our Carrier; I know it was her, because she gave off the same feeling of safety that I remember before emerging. She held us and fed us our first energon. Spoke to us; hers was the only voice that wasn’t loud.”

                At this, Sideswipe felt his expression turn wistful. He hadn’t thought about their Carrier in a very long time. Sunstreaker didn’t remember her and had always thought Sideswipe had been making up his memories due to wishful thinking. After a while, Sideswipe had stopped talking about it, especially when it was more important just to survive from day to day.

                “How long were you with her for?” First Tier asked. 

                “I don’t really know… it felt like forever. But eventually… her warmth started to fade,” Sideswipe said, frowning.

                “Her voice got smaller and quieter while the other sounds around us grew louder. We were taken away; I could still feel her, but even after we were set down, it was like she was moving farther and farther away.”

                Sideswipe’s orbital ridges furrowed and a fleeting emotion passed along their link – disquiet, vague unease. Sideswipe pulsed back reassurance to his brother.

                “I remember Sunny was unhappy because he had finally been warm, and he didn’t understand why he wasn’t being held any more. I just knew that something was very wrong. It felt like I was being stretched in two directions, between Sunstreaker and her. And then finally… it was like a tension wire had been cut; that pull towards her was just… gone.”

                Sideswipe’s gaze turned downcast, his optics unfocused as he remembered the sharp pain and confusion.

                “It _hurt_. I curled into Sunstreaker, my spark aching for his. He was all that was left.”

                He looked up, allowing the upset he was feeling to show on his faceplates. “I think I felt her die. I felt our carrier-sparkling bond snap. Now that I think about it, I don’t think we were with her for that long. Sunny was still disorientated after being without a frame; it must be why you don’t remember as well as I do.”

                Sideswipe’s optics met his brother’s, Sunstreaker sending him a demand for the memories. Sideswipe reassured him they would relive them together, the next time they spark merged. 

                “So you believe that there _was_ a bond between you and your Carrier?” First Tier asked gently.

                Sideswipe nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. I’ve been bonded all my life; I know what one feels like.”

                “Was there any communication along it?”

                Optic shutters squinting in thought, Sideswipe finally shook his head. “Not in the typical sense. I could feel her love, her _excitement_ , through the bond. But we didn’t communicate directly.”

                “I see. After you felt your carrier pass away, what happened next?”

                “Uh… I’m not really sure. We were exhausted, so we went into recharge. When we woke up, we were alone. I remember being hungry. And Sunny was cold. You were always cold back then,” Sideswipe remarked, glancing at his brother. He vowed to ask Ratchet what that had been about; Sunstreaker had always been sluggish and miserable, unable to stay warm even next to Sideswipe.

                “If felt like we were alone for a long time. Someone eventually came and gave us some Energon. I think… I think it was our Creator,” Sideswipe said hesitantly.

                “Why do you say that?”

                “Because he felt… familiar? A little bit like our Carrier. But he didn’t stay long; he left right after we ate. He came back a few more times, only staying long enough to feed us. He never really talked to us or held us. He would go into another room, and then we would hear more voices, sometimes yelling. After a few days, he came in and picked us up. He put us in a…a box of some kind. The box was closed, and it was really dark inside.

                 “We were lifted up and carried. It was a long trip, and I heard a lot of new noises and voices come and go as we traveled.

                “Eventually we stopped moving. Our box was set down and then opened.  Our Creator lifted us out one by one and showed us to TopNotch. We were put back in the box after a minute and then he and TopNotch started arguing. I don’t really know what they said; Sunny and I hadn’t eaten in a while so we were crying.”

                “Do you know where the location was?” First Tier interjected.

                Sideswipe slowly shook his head. “No. We were too preoccupied with our empty tanks. But based on the next few memories, I would guess somewhere in ‘Notch’s training buildings.”

                “Can you definitely say that it was the defendant that you saw? You mentioned earlier your optics were not working quite right when you first emerged.”

                Sideswipe glanced over at the mech he had been trying to avoid looking at ever since he walked in. TopNotch was wearing an innocent, wide-opticked expression as he stared back. Fragger.

                “Yes. 100% certainty,” Sideswipe said, nodding. He felt his lips twitch in an aborted snarl as he looked away from their former owner. “My optics cleared up by our second or third feeding.”

                “What happened between TopNotch and your creator?”

                Sideswipe shrugged, trying to adopt an attitude of nonchalance. But his voice was bitter when he answered; their creator had provided them with shelter and energon, but hadn’t attempted to interact with them beyond that. He had made a conscious choice to give them away, and that still stung.

                “They finally agreed on a price.”

 

~ End Chapter

 


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sideswipe has no processor to mouth filter, but still manages to provide some nicely shocking and incriminating testimony against TopNotch.

                The same femme juror who had been concernedly watching Sunstreaker during his testemony let out a shocked cry. She was not alone as several others in the audience did the same. Even Ratchet frowned, his hands clenching on the railing in front of him. Sideswipe was certain their guardian’s reaction was only tempered by previous knowledge.

                “How do you know this?”

                “I saw TopNotch hand over a bunch of credits. Then our Creator walked out of my line of sight; we’ve never seen him since.”

                First Tier’s optics gleamed, a triumphant look flashing across his faceplates as the murmurs continued throughout the room.

                “I see. Sunstreaker mentioned his first real memory was being separated from you. Do you remember this also?”

                Sideswipe involuntarily shuddered. He remembered that first separation _very_ clearly. “Yes.”

                “Is there anything you can add to Sunstreaker’s testimony of the event?”

                “Uh… it happened right after our Creator left. I remember because we were still so hungry and when they took Sunny away it was like the end of the world: I was cold, my tanks were empty, and I was alone.”

                Sideswipe’s optics rose to meet Sunstreaker’s. He wasn’t surprised that this was the first complete memory his twin had; it had been a terrifying moment.

                “When they put us with the bitch, it was a relief. She made room for us immediately.”

                First Tier frowned. “Did someone come back for you? To feed you?”

                “Oh no, she fed us. Took some doing… we weren’t really coordinated, and we were actually smaller than her pups. But she eventually nudged us to her belly. Once there, it didn’t take us long to figure out what her teats were for.”

                Sideswipe hadn’t thought much about her before now, but in remembrance, he felt a lot of fondness for that bitch and her pups. They had been one ever-moving, squirming mass of warmth and metal that never yelled or hit. Besides the brief moment with their Carrier and their time with Ratchet, it had been the only time he and Sunstreaker had ever felt safe.

                “You drank energon from a… a dog?” First Tier sputtered in disbelief.

                “Yeah?” Sideswipe ventured. He startled at a loud exclamation from the audience and turned his head to watch Ratchet mutter something to Wheeljack, arms gesturing about wildly.

                _What in the Pit?_ Sideswipe asked, hoping his brother knew what had upset their caretaker.

                _He’s having spark palpitations that we survived on drone-grade energon,_ Sunstreaker replied dryly. _He’ll get over it; we’re fine. …Gonna die in a few more years, but we’re fine for now._

 _Sunny…_ Sideswipe began but trailed off at a loss.

                Data’s suggestion that they had caused their Carrier’s death had been horrifying to both of them, but especially to Sunstreaker since he had always felt it was his very existence that had caused their creator to sell them. They had assumed it had been due to financial necessity because of an extra mouth to feed combined with a loss of their Carrier’s income.

                But Data’s words had made them wonder if in addition to the monetary factor, their Creator had blamed them for his mate’s passing. Maybe he had been so disgusted with their mere presence that he had gotten rid of them as soon as an opportunity arose.

                That thought had been bad enough. Add on those damned statistics about younger twins going mad… Sideswipe had felt Sunstreaker’s already fragile psyche crack with each and every word out of that fragging lawyer’s mouth.

                It had left Sunstreaker reeling, barely afloat in a sea of uncertainty. Only their bond and Ratchet’s presence had kept Sunstreaker from sinking completely into despondency. Sideswipe vaguely understood that Data had been doing her job, but Sideswipe would never forgive her for the damage done to his brother.

 _Stuff if, Sides,_ Sunstreaker replied wearily.

_Just… don’t believe everything she said. We’ll talk with Ratchet later._

               It would have to be a long talk. Sideswipe didn’t think Ratchet had deliberately withheld information like that from them. There had been a lot going on since they had met their guardian and Sideswipe was sure that explaining other culture’s viewpoints on twins to them had been pretty low on Ratchet’s priority list. Nevertheless they needed facts, and Ratchet was just as invested in their future as they were.

               “How long were you with the dog and her pups for?” First Tier asked, not noticing Sideswipe’s distraction.

               “It’s hard to say for sure. Maybe a week? We were taken away a day or so after we transformed for the first time. We were injected with something that made us weak and eventually fall offline. When we woke up, the backs of our helms hurt, and we were together in one of the individual dog rooms. I think that was when they injected us with the inhibitory chips. We were left alone for another day or two after that. Then they started training us.”

               “Do you have anything to add to Sunstreaker’s testimony regarding your training?”

               Sideswipe cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “No. No, he got it right. We picked all the commands up pretty quickly. It was the fight training that took us the longest. It went against everything they taught us in not fighting _them_.”

               “From what I understand, the two of you were some of the best fighting dogs in the circuits. Do you believe that was true?”

               “Not _some_ of the best. _The_ best,” Sideswipe boasted. Their bond and superior intelligence had made them a formidable team, beaten only when severely outnumbered or weakened when the time between mergings had grown too long.

               First Tier nodded, seeming to take the statement at face value. “You killed other dogs frequently; did you have any moral objections to that?”

               Sideswipe shot a quick glance to Data; she was watching him carefully, and he thought for a moment before answering.

               “At first we did. But then we realized… these other dogs weren’t smart like us. They didn’t _think_ like us. The dogs in the kill fights had been trained to keep attacking until either they or their opponents deactivated. Those matches didn’t stop until _something_ died.

               “So it was either us or them. And if it came down to Sunstreaker or them… I would chose Sunny every time,” Sideswipe added, voice turning hard.

               “I think we all can see that the bond between you two is very strong,” First Tier commented wryly. “Let’s move forward; unless you have anything else to add to your brother’s testimony?”

               At Sideswipe’s shake of the head, First Tier continued on.

               “All right then. Tell me, Sideswipe – do you clearly remember your first meeting with Ratchet?”

               Sideswipe nodded eagerly and leaned forward, much more willing to talk about the happiest weeks of his life than the despairing years that occurred before.

               “Sure! Sunny already mentioned that he had gotten hurt the night before. Well, Ratchet was escorted in the next morning by one of the ring guards. He just walked on in, never once showed any fear of either of us. We weren’t all that welcoming either. In fact, the guard thought I might attack so he flipped on my shock collar.

               “Primus! It was awesome!” Sideswipe exclaimed, wriggling a little in his seat.

               “Ratch got _so_ mad that he threw one of his tools at the guard. He hit the guy right in the head and dropped him. Bam! Right to the floor!” Sideswipe said, chortling a little in remembrance. As a first meeting, it wasn’t the smoothest, but it certainly had made an impression.

                First Tier blinked his optics at Sideswipe for several moments. “Ratchet… hit him?”

 _Ratchet respectfully asks that you stop,_ Sunstreaker interjected.

               Sideswipe cocked his head and glanced over to his brother. Beside him, Ratchet had his helm lowered, forehelm covered by one hand.

_Stop what?_

_Stop being_ you _, Sides,_ Sunstreaker replied, amusement at their guardian’s embarrassment quite evident in his tone.

               Sideswipe’s grin widened as Ratchet’s optics warily peeked through his fingers up at the witness box.

_Never!_

              “Yeah! The guard got the hint and left. Then Ratchet darted Sunny and started working on him. Even though he didn’t know I could understand him, he still talked out loud and described what he was doing every step of the way. He was quick but thorough.”

             “He didn’t know about you at that time?” First Tier asked.

             “He suspected we were siblings, even mentioned twins. But he still thought that we were just dogs,” Sideswipe said, a little sadly. At that point in their lives, he would have been happy staying a dog as long as he had been owned by someone as nice as Ratchet had been to them that day.

             “He looked me over next and gave me ear scritches and a tummy rub.” Sideswipe’s optic shutters squinted nearly closed in concentration as he paged through his memory files.

             “No one besides our Carrier had ever touched me like that before. We got hit and kicked plenty, shocked through the collars daily, but no one ever once patted us on the head. After a while of living and fighting in the rings, it was hard to remember anything else. Ratchet made me think that there was hope for something more.”

             Sideswipe couldn’t help the small, dopey smile he beamed in Ratchet’s direction. It was gratifying to see it returned ten-fold.

             First Tier took a step back, attracting Sideswipe’s attention back to the lawyer. They looked at one another, Sideswipe in curiosity and First Tier with contemplation. Sideswipe could tell that the lawyer was considering the information Sideswipe had given him and deciding where to go next.

             It seemed like all of their careful planning was going out the window. A great deal of the information First Tier had wanted exposed was getting out there; it just was coming out in a different way than they had originally agreed upon.

             Which was fine by Sideswipe; they had learned in the rings that predictability could get you killed. A little spontaneity never hurt anyone. Well… except that one time… and that other time with the thing…

            Sideswipe was snapped out of his musings by First Tier’s voice asking another question.

           “Did you know that you were inhibited at the time?”

            “No. Well… yes…” Sideswipe huffed a quick ex-vent. “It’s complicated. For those first few days, we or rather _I,_ remembered our carrier, but I think I was too young to really know what those memories meant. And they faded pretty quickly, especially when we were thrown in with the bitch and then into training.”

               Sideswipe paused again, his denta worrying his bottom lipplate as he struggled to find the words to describe what he was thinking. “I don’t know much about sparklings. And I don’t know anything about how sparklings are supposed to learn to transform.

                “I mean, obviously we had access to the coding to transform into our dog forms. But I don’t think it was a conscious decision to transform when we did. I think it was just instinct; we wanted to fit in. We didn’t want to lose what we had with the bitch.”

                “And later?” First Tier pressed. “Did you realize you had the capability to transform?”

                Sideswipe hesitated, mouth open for several seconds before actually speaking. “Not… not really? I mean, we had more intelligence than the dogs around us, so eventually we realized that we weren’t truly like them. None of the other dogs got along or communicated with each other like we could. And then of course, there was the spark merging.

                “But we were nothing like the mecha around us either. So I knew that we were different, but I didn’t know exactly _why_. It was only when we met Ratchet, and he touched me and spoke to me like he did that I started remembering that there had once been _more_. I knew something about our forms wasn’t right, but I never really made the connection that we were being prevented from transforming,” Sideswipe finally finished.

                First Tier nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Why do you think that none of the other veterinary residents suspected anything?”

                Sideswipe snorted, grinning. “Because Ratch is _that_ good,” he reported, proud of his guardian. He watched Ratchet hide his faceplates behind his hands again.

                Sobering a little, Sideswipe continued.

                “To be honest, I don’t know why none of the others noticed anything. We were sedated a lot, or even separated at times when we were being worked on. So maybe they just didn’t see us together for long enough?” he suggested.

                 Sideswipe didn’t mention that Ratchet had worked on them for less than five minutes before wondering out loud if they were related.

                “So after that first interaction, you next saw Ratchet at the fighting dog Expo?” the lawyer inquired.

               “Yup. He and Wheeljack were in the crowd in front of our display cage. I also saw him in the stands for our fight, but then we were placed back in our room so I didn’t see him any more than that.”

               “Sideswipe, your brother reported being sedated for Ratchet’s next visit, which was when you were injured. Do you recall that time any better?”

               Nodding, Sideswipe shifted on the stool, trying to find a more comfortable position. Sunstreaker had been right that the thing was a torture device.

               “Yeah. Two of his classmates got there first. I was going to let them work on me, but they darted Sunny before doing anything else.

               “I wouldn’t let them near me after that,” he said delicately, fuzzily remembering himself flailing and snarling at the mech and femme who had sedated Sunstreaker. “We can share pain along the bond, you know? After Sunny was knocked out, I suddenly felt all of it, and it was a lot, trust me. It messed up my head a little.”

               “But you let Ratchet tend to you?”  First Tier questioned.

               Sideswipe cleared his intake, briefly looking away in shame. “Uhhh… I didn’t really identify him at first. He had to whap me upside the head with a wrench before I could get past the pain.”

              At First Tier’s subtle wince, Sideswipe realized that maybe telling the jury Ratchet had hit a patient wasn’t the best idea ever.

              “It was just what I needed, though,” Sideswipe rushed to add. “It focused me, and I recognized him. After that, Ratchet went to work.”

              “I’ll be sure to ask Ratchet about the medical details; is there anything else you’d like to add about that encounter?”

              Sideswipe met First Tier’s optics and smiled humorlessly. Now they were back into territory they had previously discussed.

              “Yeah, actually. That was the day TopNotch tried to have me killed.”

 

~ End Chapter


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sideswipe's testimony continues, under Data's direction

              “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” First Tier asked, expression turning shocked.

              Sideswipe knew it was all an act on the lawyer’s part. The information about TopNotch ordering Sideswipe’s euthanasia had been discussed in detail during their prep sessions. It was one of the few times that Sideswipe had paid attention as both Ratchet and First Tier had made him practice his responses multiple times.

              “Well, Ratchet had just done his magic and got me to stop bleeding out when TopNotch walked in. The first thing he said was, ‘Why isn’t that dog offlined yet?’. Ratchet tried arguing with him that I could be repaired, but TopNotch said that it wasn’t worth the effort.

              “He said that I had lost my taste for fighting, and I should be put down. He looked right at me and told me that I deserved every wound for my lackluster performance the night before,” Sideswipe reported, not feigning his indignant tone.

              Now that he thought about it, he had to wonder if TopNotch had been planning their deaths. They were good, but pitting one of them against six other dogs had been pushing it, obviously. 

              First Tier ignored the murmurs of the audience behind him, pressing on. “And Ratchet refused?”

              “All of them did. Both Ratchet and the other two medics who had come in before him,” Sideswipe replied. It had been an impressive scene, all three of them saying ‘no’ to TopNotch. Not many mechs refused the dog fighter anything and got away with it.

              “So three different veterinary medics found reason to say no to your euthanasia. What happened next?”

              “Ratchet tried to get TopNotch to give me away, but he refused. So… Ratchet offered to buy me.”

              It had been one of the happiest moments of his life. Despite interacting with Ratchet for only a few hours, Sideswipe had become completely enamored with the vet. To hear Ratchet offer to purchase him was proof that Ratchet was interested in them as well.

              “And what did the defendant do?”

              “He agreed,” Sideswipe said. “TopNotch made Ratch sign a waiver that only he would be able to work on me. ‘Notch obviously didn’t know how good Ratchet is; he probably thought I would offline under his care.”

              “Well, thank Primus Ratchet is more experienced than TopNotch realized,” First Tier said with a small smile.

              Sideswipe merely beamed at Ratchet, once again proud of their guardian’s skills. Ratchet shook his head at Sideswipe, obviously trying to frown, but his lips kept twitching up at the corners. Sideswipe inwardly cheered – no one could resist his charms!

              Without prompting, Sideswipe continued. “After that, I don’t remember anything until waking up in the hospital; Ratchet had given me sedatives for transport. When I woke up, I transformed back. Into my lovely self,” Sideswipe added with a silly flourish, winking an optic at the jurors. Two of the femmes in the front row giggled and several of the mechs smiled.

 _You are ridiculous,_ Sunstreaker remarked, exasperated. Nevertheless, their bond was awash with affection.

 _You love me anyway,_ Sideswipe replied. _Remember what First Tier said – ‘cute sells’._

_Who told you you were cute?_

            Before Sideswipe could reply, First Tier questioned him again.

            “Did you consciously change back?”

            Sideswipe scrunched up his faceplates in thought, trying to remember. “Yeees?” 

            First Tie smiled wryly. “Can you be more specific?”

            “As soon as I came out of recharge, the option was available in my operating queue. With big neon flashing lights saying it was really, _really_ overdue. So I chose it,” Sideswipe said with a shrug. “We used to get a lot of the same type of warnings in the weeks prior to our spark merges. We always felt better after merging, so I figured if my frame was telling me to do it, I should.”

            “What was transforming back to your root form like?”

            Sideswipe took in a deep ventilation, smiling wanly. “Uh, confusing. A little scary. I was alone when I woke up and connected to about a dozen pieces of equipment. I didn’t know it at the time, but Ratchet had given me pain blocks so my legs didn’t work when I tried to stand.

            “But despite that… it felt right, you know? Like this was what my processor, my _spark_ , had been trying to tell me all along. Sunny didn’t remember, so I was the only one that kept thinking there was something else besides the fighting, something _more_. It felt so good to realize that I didn’t have some bolts loose,” Sideswipe said, voice shaking a little with the remembered relief.

             Sunstreaker immediately sent Sideswipe pulses of support, prickly at the edges with guilt and shame.

 _It’s not your fault,_ Sideswipe insisted, _you didn’t remember, and I never once thought to share my files with you._

 _I should have believed you, though. I just didn’t want TopNotch to be right,_ Sunstreaker lamented, referring to the multiple times their former owner had sneered at them, gloating that their own creator hadn’t even wanted them.

 _He_ was _right, but that’s ok. Ratchet wants us. He loves us,_ Sideswipe replied.

 _Yeah. I know,_ Sunstreaker admitted. Sideswipe watched as his twin leaned into Ratchet’s side, their guardian automatically snaking an arm around Sunstreaker’s shoulders at the wordless request for reassurance.

           “So you were finally in the root form you were meant to be in. Was Ratchet surprised?”

           Sideswipe snorted. “You better believe it. He came barreling into the room expecting a dog and found me, all tangled up in the equipment and sprawled over the floor. He thought TopNotch had sent someone to steal me back.”

           “The two of you obviously worked it out, though,” First Tier commented.

           “Yeah, took a few minutes to explain. Then Ratchet realized what it meant – Sunstreaker was still inhibited and locked up at TopNotch’s place. Ratchet made some calls and Wheeljack and Prowl showed up,” he said, nodding in the engineer and enforcer’s direction.

           “Ratchet left with the enforcers; Prowl was going to arrest TopNotch and Ratchet was going to be nearby as a familiar face for Sunny.”

           Sideswipe shrugged. “I wasn’t there, obviously, but a few hours later, Sunstreaker walked into my recovery room. On two legs.”

           Sideswipe’s circuits heated a little in remembrance of seeing the utterly gorgeous form of his twin for the first time. His spark had known it was Sunstreaker, and he would have been able to pick him out of a crowd based on his coloring, but other than the familiar slant of Sunstreaker’s optics, it had all been a new sight.

 _Much better than what I first saw,_ Sunstreaker grumbled, _you: dented and dirty and unable to even stand._

 _I got better,_ Sideswipe replied cheekily. _And cleaner._

         “Very good,” First Tier said, smiling. “I think we’ll stop there, your Honor. No further questions.”

          He nodded at the judge, smiled briefly in the jurors’ direction, and then walked back to his table. As he did so, Angle nodded in the defense lawyer’s direction.

          Sideswipe watched as Data stood up. She looked him over with considering optics as she approached, and Sideswipe braced himself. After her harsh words to Sunstreaker, Sideswipe didn’t trust her one bit.

          “Hello, Sideswipe,” Data said as she came to a stop a few feet in front of the witness stand. “I only have a few questions for you, if that’s all right?”

          “Sure. Go ahead,” Sideswipe replied, smiling as nicely as he could. Based on Data’s surprised blink, he gathered that it wasn’t as pleasant as an expression as he had intended.

          “Thank you. You report being sold and incarcerated and that you attempted to fight back at first but swiftly stopped. Did you make any attempts at communication with your captors?”

          Sideswipe’s optics narrowed, and he couldn’t stop the sarcastic reply. “Sure. All the time. But for some reason, when we were _trapped_ in our dog forms, no one understood all the barking we did.”

          The lawyer waved a nonchalant hand through the air. “Of course. And I know it was mentioned that the so-called ‘inhibitory chip’ disrupted communication links. But I’m curious as to why you didn’t attempt any forms of writing? Couldn’t you act differently or in such a way that someone would find suspicious?”

          “Writing?” Sideswipe repeated snidely. “We would have needed to know _how_ to write. We do now, but only because it was one of the first programs Ratchet gave us. And as to acting ‘differently’?”

           Sideswipe shrugged. “A lot of the time, the trainers wouldn’t give us the chance to do anything, but just walked in and turned on the collars. Even the vets would dart us because the trainers told them we were vicious.”

           “It certainly sounds like you were,” Data commented idly. She glanced at him slyly. “Killing innocent beasts left and right to make yourselves the ‘best fighting dogs in the ring’ – isn’t that correct?”

           Sideswipe stared at Data for a long moment, his denta grinding together to avoid blurting out what he really wanted to say.

           “No. That’s _not_ correct,” he said slowly. “We weren’t pacifists, but neither were we going to sit back and be ripped apart by those so-called ‘innocent beasts’. The other fighters had been trained to kill on sight; it was ingrained instinct by that point.”

           “But _you_ didn’t have that instinct. You, with the intelligence of a sentient mech, made the _conscious_ decision to continue fighting.”

           “Well, what in the Pit did you want me to do?” Sideswipe exclaimed, feeling the frustration rise. “Just stand there and let them tear my throat out? Let them offline Sunny?!”

           “Did you have you kill them?” Data pressed. “Couldn’t you just incapacitate them?”

           “When we could… but many of our fights were to the death,” Sideswipe reiterated, feeling his cooling fans click on automatically. The lawyer was managing to rile him up, no matter how prepared he had thought himself to be. Even Sunstreaker’s wordless support was only helping so much.

           “And did you ever _once_ try to communicate with the audience during these fights? Or did you just viciously rip through your opponents one by one?” Data sneered.

           “I didn’t _rip_ …” Sideswipe sputtered.

           “Did you  love the taste of energon in your mouth, the feel of plating tearing between your sharp claws?”

           “I don’t…”

           “Did you draw the fights out so that the audience got their money’s worth?”

           “I…”

           “How did you feel…”

           “Objection!” First Tier shouted, interrupting Data’s seemingly endless barrage of questions. “Badgering the witness!”

           Angle nodded at First Tier and warningly pointed to Data. “Defense… let the child answer, if you would.”

           Data’s optics flickered up to meet the judge’s before returning to Sideswipe’s. He was very grateful for First Tier’s intervention; his hands were shaking with impotent rage, his processor so muddled with the force of the accusations that he could barely speak.

           “Well?” the lawyer said, with a smirk. “Your answers? _Child_?”

           Sideswipe gripped the stool beneath his aft, fingertips nearly indenting the metal with the effort it was taking not to snap at the femme.

           “It never occurred to us to communicate with the audience. We killed our opponents when we had to, but we never drew it out. And neither of us ever _enjoyed_ what we did,” Sideswipe spat, disgusted at the thought.

           They had been driven by many emotions when in the rings, but never once had they ever taken pleasure in killing the other fighters. If anything, they liked the first blood fights the most, because it had been more of a challenge to knock their opponents out of the ring without damaging them too badly.

           “Stand up,” Data commanded suddenly.

           Sideswipe blinked at the femme, confused by the order that had come out of nowhere. He glanced hesitantly at First Tier and then Ratchet, but both of them seem just as mystified.

           “I’m sorry… what?” Sideswipe asked. A look at the judge showed Angle looking at Data in consideration, but not objecting.

           “Stand up,” she repeated, so Sideswipe did as she instructed, shrugging at Sunstreaker when he pulsed a wordless query.

           “Thank you,” Data said, when Sideswipe was fully upright. “Now come down here in front, please.”

           Still confused, Sideswipe shuffled out of the back of the witness box and walked forward to where Data indicated with a pointing finger. It was uncomfortably close to the lawyer, and he took an additional step to the side, glancing at her in mistrust.

           “You’re quite tall,” Data remarked, barely coming up to Sideswipe’s chest.

           “Maybe you’re just short,” he replied which earned him an annoyed look. She reached out and gripped his elbow, pulling him with her as she walked over and faced the jury. His plating practically crawled from where her fingers touched him.

           “Quite a specimen, isn’t he?” Data asked the jury, patting Sideswipe on the upper arm. As subtly as he could, he leaned away from the femme. 

           This close to the jury box, he practically loomed over the jurors seated in the front row. A few of them looked up at him uncertainly, and he suddenly wished he was of a smaller, less imposing frame type. Were they really that abnormally sized? Pits, Ironhide was nearly a foot taller than they were and no one had looked at him with fear!

           “Now transform, if you please,” Data said. “So the jury can see exactly what was in the ring with those puppies you killed.”

           Sideswipe jerked out of Data’s grip, optics wide in astonishment. “You have _got_ to be kidding.”

           Her petite face lifted, optics locking on to his. “I am not. Please transform into your canine form. Unless you refuse?”

           “No. I can transform; no problem. I’d just love to see _you_ meet up with those so-called ‘puppies’ one day,” Sideswipe grumbled, trying to stall for time.

           His dog form had spooked mechs and femmes on multiple occasions and that had been at a distance or from behind a protective barrier. What would the jurors think of the huge beast that he turned into?

           Sideswipe looked over his shoulder at Angle, hesitating. 

           “Go ahead, young mech,” the judge said, leaning forward with frank curiosity on his faceplates. Well, great. No getting out of it now.

 _Ratchet says that now is the time to bring out the cute puppy dog act,_ Sunstreaker helpfully supplied.

 _Yeah? Ya think?_ Sideswipe retorted. He initiated his transformation, internally sighing in resignation.

           He landed on four paws with a soft thump, raising his head and looking down into the optics of the juror seated at the very center of the bottom row. The mech’s optics grew round, his intakes stuttering, as they looked at one another for a few seconds.

           Sideswipe took a few steps backwards, to get a little more distance between himself and the jury box. He sat on his haunches next to Data, tail balancer swishing across the ground behind him in a slow, cautious sweep. Taking a chance, he dropped his lower jaw and let his glossa loll out to the side. He hoped it would be silly looking and draw attention away from his gleaming fangs. Finally, he pricked his audial flaps forward and yipped, keeping the sound in the higher pitch range.

           Nasal sensors twitching with the influx of new information, Sideswipe glanced from one juror to another, noting that while some of them seemed startled or uneasy, no one looked ready to run screaming from the room.

           He yipped again, tail balancer picking up speed as he jumped to all fours and then crouched down on his front limbs. He let his aft swing with the motion of his tail, glossa lolling out even further.

           “Awww. He wants to play,” one of the jurors crooned, leaning over the femme in front of her to get a closer look. “Here, puppy. Come here.”

           She stretched out a hand, practically falling into the juror’s lap below her in an attempt to reach him. Sideswipe pranced closer until his chest pressed against the jury box wall, and slowly stretched his neck forward to meet her hand. After making a show of sniffing it, he lightly flicked the tip of his glossa across her fingers. The juror squealed a little, her face lighting up with a wide smile.

 _Ew. You will be washing that before using it on me_ , Sunstreaker said with a heavy dose of disgust.

_What? My glossa?! I’ve licked Ratchet, and you haven’t had a problem with it._

_I don’t know where_ she’s _been!_ Sunstreaker protested.

         Distracted with Sunstreaker’s unrealistic expectations, Sideswipe didn’t note the sharp tang of Data’s frustration until too late.

         Behind him, far too close for safety, a dog screamed out a shrill hunting cry.

 

~ End Chapter

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Well, that's the end of the large section of fic I had pre-written and was editing to post. I had the majority of chapter 36 written, but I have decided to rewrite it in Ratchet's POV as he has been itching to talk. My work schedule is also going to be a bit hectic in the next month or so, so posts may be a while coming.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We take a step backwards with Ratchet to find out what was going on with last chapter's cliffhanger.

      “Now transform, if you please,” Data said. “So the jury can see exactly what was in the ring with those puppies you killed.”

      Ratchet cocked his head to the side in confusion at the defense lawyer’s request. Why would she…? Then, spark sinking, he realized what Data was trying to do.

      In their root forms, the twins were tall and broad in the shoulders, easily mistaken for adults and slightly intimidating ones at that. Sunstreaker’s hesitant recollections and obvious upset at Data’s accusations made it easy for one to forget his sheer size and strength. But now, as Sideswipe towered over the first row of the jury box, Ratchet could see the hesitancy in some of the jurors’ optics.

      In their canine forms, the twins were taller and bulkier than the average companion dog. Witnessing Sideswipe’s transformation into an admittedly fearsome-looking beast might just provoke the reaction that Data had been trying to achieve with her allusions to the twins’ energon lust.

     “Oh, Pit,” Ratchet cursed softly before turning to Sunstreaker. “Remember exhibit A?”

     Sunstreaker looked at him questioningly, but before Ratchet could explain, he saw realization cross Sunstreaker’s faceplates. He nodded once as he focused his attention back on to his brother.

     “He can be awfully adorable; I don’t think this is going to go quite the way she wants it to,” Wheeljack said, pressing companionably against Ratchet’s arm to murmur the words.

     “Primus, I hope you’re right,” Ratchet replied, watching Sideswipe reluctantly fold down into his canine form.

     As soon as the final gear clicked into place, he plopped onto his rear end, tail balancer cautiously wagging as he looked at the jurors. After a moment, the tail picked up speed, and his glossa slid out of the side of his mouth, giving him a goofy expression.

     Despite everything, Ratchet snorted in amusement, some of the tension draining out of him.

     “Sides knows how to work an audience. He was always better at it than I was,” Sunstreaker said softly, leaning into Ratchet to speak the words.

     “Yeah, I can see that,” Ratchet said, grinning a little as the one of the jurors reached out her hand to Sideswipe, wriggling her fingers enticingly.

     “Wow! Look at how fragged off she is!” Wheeljack said gleefully, subtly pointing in Data’s direction.

     Ratchet turned his head to Data to see that Wheeljack was correct. While the lawyer’s faceplates were carefully blank, her shoulders were hunched in irritation, and her optics practically spat sparks.

     Suddenly, Data drew herself up to her full height, lipplates twitching upwards in a triumphant smirk. The change in her confidence sent a bolt of alarm through Ratchet, and he opened his mouth to comment on the about face.

     Before he could speak, Data’s arm whipped upwards and a dainty finger pressed down just behind the point of her jaw. Ratchet jumped as a spiraling howl emerged from her frame, sending shivers down his back strut.

     “Wha… oomph!” A scant second after the cry sounded, Ratchet found himself caught up in an iron grip and shoved to the floor. A grunt was forced out of his vocalizer as a heavy weight fell on top of him, his optic sight reduced to a small, gleaming patch of gold.

     Ratchet’s audials rang with screams and exclamations from all around. Equilibrium gryos still spinning from his abrupt relocation, it took him another few seconds to realize that while the original howl had abruptly cut off, two matching sets of angry growls were adding to the cacophony.

     It was horrifyingly easy to deduce who those rumbles belonged to, once Ratchet’s processor stopped reeling.

     “Sunstreaker, get off me!” Ratchet exclaimed, yanking an arm free of his ward’s protective embrace and shoving at whatever bit of plating he could reach. “It was just a recording, a dirty tri…!”

     Ratchet trailed off, his tanks roiling with suspicious dread. He craned his neck to the side and managed to see the front of the courtroom, framed between the legs of First Tier’s table. A mass of red and black armor hunkered over something on the floor, nearly obscuring it. Even as he continued to push at Sunstreaker’s bulk, Ratchet quickly indentified the cream colored shoulder and twitching peach fingers that clawed helplessly at the air. Data’s helm was turned away, her head forced up and back by the powerful jaws locked around her neck.

     “Sideswipe!” Ratchet gasped, his struggles intensifying. “Sideswipe, no! Let her up!”

     For a brief moment, Ratchet’s view was blocked by several pairs of legs running across the front of the room; some of the jurors, he assumed. Then the way was clear once more and what he saw made him thrash with sheer panic.

     Rough Node, the bailiff, had departed his post at Angle’s side, descending from the judge’s dais. He strode forward, a grim expression on his faceplates as he unslung a blaster from his back.

     Terror gave Ratchet strength; with one giant heave, he forced Sunstreaker up and back, the youngling colliding with Wheeljack’s hovering frame. Ratchet rolled to his side and then his knees. Forgoing dignity for speed, Ratchet dove under the partition in front of their seats, wincing as the lower edge scrapped across his back. He scrambled beneath First Tier’s table, accidentally bumping one of the legs and shoving it a foot across the floor with a sickening screech.

     In slow motion, he watched the tip of Rough Node’s blaster rise and line up with Sideswipe’s oblivious body. The youngling’s growls were abating in volume, but Sideswipe still had his jaws clenched around Data’s throat, her slight body nearly obscured by his bulk.

     Rough Node’s finger settled on the blaster’s trigger.

     “No! No, stop! Don’t!”

     With one last heave, Ratchet threw himself in front of Sideswipe, landing awkwardly on one hip. He threw up one hand, as if his palm could block a shot from the gun by sheer will power alone.

     “Please! No! She scared him, he didn’t mean any harm,” Ratchet babbled, other hand creeping around his back to blindly pat at Sideswipe’s nose.

     As soon as he made contact, he felt Sideswipe still, the rumbles abruptly transitioning into a questioning whine. A moment later, Sideswipe tentatively licked Ratchet’s fingers; a step in the right direction as it meant Sideswipe had given up his grip on Data’s neck.

     A creak of metal and a click of his claws on the floor heralded Sideswipe’s shift off Data. The youngling pressed against Ratchet’s back, their plating creating a soft scraping sound as Sideswipe glacially moved up besides Ratchet. The very picture of submission, Sideswipe’s belly brushed the floor and his audial flaps flattened as he slunk forward.

     Sideswipe continued to move away, obviously trying to get Ratchet out of the line of fire, but he was having none of that. If the bailiff was going to shoot, he’d have to take out Ratchet as well.

     He threw an arm over Sideswipe’s massive shoulders and tugged the youngling up against him, Sideswipe giving in with only the slightest hesitation. He head hanging down, he ended up pressed against Ratchet’s chest, their legs tangled together. Sideswipe whined continuously; soft, frightened sounds that tore at Ratchet’s spark.

     “It’s ok. It’s ok. See?”  Ratchet said, voice trembling. He patted the top of Sideswipe’s head. “Please. Please, put the weapon away?”

     His expression was as earnest as he could make it, his ventilations stalled as he waited to see what the bailiff would do. It had to have only been seconds since the recording’s howl had split the air, but Ratchet would swear later that it felt like hours. The rest of the room faded away, his entire focus on the shivering dog at his side and the weapon aimed at Sideswipe’s spark.

     Rough Node’s optics cycled, his gaze flitting from Sideswipe up to Ratchet’s face. The bailiff’s shoulders lowered a bare fraction, a look of uncertainty crossing his faceplates.

     A scuff of metal behind them made Rough Node tense again, his attention split between the awkward pile of limbs in front of him and the lawyer rolling to her side behind Ratchet.

    “Ma’am! Ma’am? Are you all right?” Rough Node asked, taking a step towards her. Ratchet looked over his shoulder, fully anticipating the sight of shredded plating and freely flowing energon.

     Instead he witnessed a very shaken lawyer frantically scooting away from the two of them. She slid across the floor until she bumped against the bailiff’s legs. The rifle muzzle drooped as Rough Node clasped Data’s shoulder to steady her. As far as Ratchet could tell, there wasn’t a scratch on her, unless one counted the self-induced scrapes on her aft.

     “Did you see that? He attacked me!” she exclaimed shrilly, finger pointing in Sideswipe’s general direction. 

     Sideswipe whimpered, shifting slightly with a quiet click of gears. Rough Node’s weapon rose again in their general direction, but thankfully not as unwaveringly focused on Sideswipe as it had just been.

     A great swell of anger broke over Ratchet at the lawyer’s words, and if he didn’t think it would get both Sideswipe and himself shot, he would have leapt onto Data and shook her.

     “You provoked him!” Ratchet spat, leaning forward to point his own finger. “You deliberately frightened a mech who has been trained to retaliate against threats with violence. What did you think was going to happen!?”

     As Data huffed indignantly, Ratchet felt Sideswipe slide out of his hold. Ratchet’s helm whipped around so quickly that he had to fight off a quick flash of dizziness. He made a frantic grab at Sideswipe’s shoulder, but the red dog was already settling onto his side. Slowly, his own optics locked on the bailiff and his weapon, Sideswipe rolled to his back, a continuous low whine emerging from him. He stilled with his paws flopped out to the side exposing his vulnerable belly and throat.

     “Sir. I believe you can put away your weapon now.” Prowl’s cool, calm voice came from beyond their little bubble of a standoff, and Ratchet startled at the sound. He turned his head to watch the Enforcer step past the audience partition. His arms were held up to show empty palms, and his sensory panels were swept backwards in a non-threatening pose

     At the sight of Prowl approaching, Rough Node relaxed even further, the blaster dipping until the only damage it would do if triggered would be an unsightly hole in the floor.

     “You trust ‘em?” The bailiff asked, gesturing towards Sideswipe.

     “Yes,” Prowl said simply, walking closer to crouch by Sideswipe’s side. He knelt on the floor and gently laid a hand atop Sideswipe’s chest. Ratchet stared up at the Enforcer with a grateful look, thanking Primus that this level-headed, intelligent mech was on _their_ side.

     “Ratchet was quite correct. That was an ill advised move, madam,” Prowl added, voice becoming frosty as he looked over at Data.

     “I was making a point. These two are vicious animals that can’t be trusted!” she protested.

     “They are _children_ and comparable to soldiers suffering post traumatic stress. Would you have fired a gun behind a recent veteran of battle?” Prowl questioned.

     “That’s nonsense!” Data exclaimed, getting to her feet with Rough Node’s help.

     Before Prowl could reply, the judge spoke up. “Data, do you require medical assistance?”

     She startled at the voice above her head, hand flying up to clutch at her chest. “Oh! Your Honor. I think… I _did_ land quite hard. Perhaps I should have myself seen to…” she said, trailing off and holding the back of her helm. Her shoulders hunched a little, and she widened her optics as she looked up at Angle. She was the very picture of hurt innocence.

     Ratchet snorted, an ugly sneer finding its way to his face. “Some vicious beast he is – not even a scratch on you, I see.”

     Data shot him a dirty look as she accepted the bailiff’s arm.

     “Then we will call in a medical team. Rough Node – please escort Data to the one of the meeting rooms; a medic will be with her shortly. Everyone else…” Angle said, raising his voice, “there will be a short recess of thirty minutes. Enforcer Prowl, a word, please.”

     The enforcer gently patted Sideswipe’s chest and nodded. “Transform,” he suggested in a quiet voice as he stood. “But slowly. The jurors and audience are viewing you in a much different light than a few minutes ago.”

     Sideswipe waited a very long minute before rolling back over and crouching on all four paws. Slow enough to make Ratchet wince in sympathy, Sideswipe shifted back to his mech form. When the final armor piece settled into place, Sideswipe ended up on his hands and knees, head bowed. A subtle tremor shook him, and Ratchet immediately shot a hand out to touch his ward’s back.

     “Sides?” Ratchet ventured softly. “Are you ok?”

     “I’m sorry,” Sideswipe whispered back, voice wrecked. He finally looked up, denta worrying at his lower lip plate before speaking

     “I fragged it all up. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I thought… it sounded so real…”

     “Sweetspark…” Ratchet sighed, reaching out a hand to cup Sideswipe’s cheek. He leaned into the touch, ducking his head back down.

     “I said we didn’t have the same instincts as the other dogs, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe we _are_ nothing but vicious beasts,” Sideswipe said bitterly. “And maybe they should revise their studies about the younger twin losing it first. Cuz I seem to have the market cornered on violence lately.” 

     “Sideswipe, _no_ ,” Ratchet gasped. He twisted to the side, and abruptly yanked Sideswipe into his arms. Sideswipe pressed close, shivering even harder as he did his very best to fit his larger frame across Ratchet’s lap.

     “Prowl was right,” Ratchet whispered into Sideswipe’s audial. “You and Sunny have been forced on the offensive so many times that it’s been written into your very code. Given time, you can probably be trained out of these type of reactions. Neither of you are bad mechs; I know that with my whole spark.”

     Sideswipe didn’t speak; he only burrowed himself closer. Over the dying cacophony of the audience and jurors moving around, Ratchet heard footsteps approach from behind, and he tensed before he saw a rapid pulse of color out of the corner of his optic.

     “Are either of you hurt?” Wheeljeck questioned, crouching and placing a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder. 

     Ratchet shook his head, his spark beginning to slow down now that the immediate threat from the bailiff was over. “Just shaken up. Is Sunstreaker ok?”

     He glanced over to see the yellow twin looking uncertain and forlorn in his seat. His optics were focused intently on his twin and Ratchet, shoulders hunched forward defensively. He looked very much alone, especially considering the three entire rows behind him had emptied.

     Wheeljack looked over his shoulder, optics slanting in amusement. “Still a little shocked that you managed to throw him off, I think.”

     “Pure panic,” Ratchet admitted, feeling suddenly drained and exhausted. He gently jostled the mech in his lap.

     “Sides… your brother is looking a little lost. Do you want to go back to your seat?”

     Sideswipe took in a steadying ventilation before hesitantly lifting his head to survey the room. Ratchet took a moment to do the same.

     Prowl and Angle were in deep conference up at the judge’s pulpit. Rough Node had paused in the doorway behind Angle, speaking quietly to another guard and gesturing in their direction several times. After a brief exchange, the new guard entered the courtroom, wary optics studying each mech and femme in turn.

     Gaze turning to the jury box, Ratchet was somewhat surprised to see that all of the jurors were present, although most of them were standing in groups of twos and threes, chattering to themselves. They all looked upset to some degree, but none of them were staring at Sideswipe in fear. In fact, the same femme whose fingers he had licked kept glancing at him with a concerned expression.

     A shuffling at his side made Ratchet startle and clutch Sideswipe that much closer as Ratchet whipped his head back around, fearful of another threat.

     “It’s just me,” First Tier said, freezing with his hands held up in mid air until Ratchet relaxed at the sight of the lawyer. First Tier slowly crouched down, giving Sideswipe an encouraging smile. “I want to take you all to a private room, let you gather yourselves. How does that sound?”

     Sideswipe moaned lowly, already getting to his feet. “Get me out of here… please.” As he leaned down and offered Ratchet a hand up, First Tier beckoned to Sunstreaker. Ratchet’s ward leapt out of his chair and down the aisle of chairs so quickly that the bailiff and new guard both jerked in surprise, hands reflexively clutching their weapons.

     Sunstreaker never even noticed; he flew across the last few feet separating himself and his twin, hands outstretched. He grasped Sideswipe’s face in his palms once he was close enough and pressed his forehelm to his brother’s, Sideswipe shuttering his optics in relief.

     “I thought he was going to shoot you. Both of you,” he gasped, gaze sliding over to Ratchet for a moment before returning to Sideswipe.

     “I’m trying to see how many times I can get shot in one week,” Sideswipe quipped, smile shaky as he soothingly patted Sunstreaker’s wrists.

     “ _Don’t even joke about that_ ,” Sunstreaker grated out, choking back a sob.

     Ratchet strode forward, sliding an arm around both of their waists, pressing his cheek against Sunstreaker’s upper arm.

     “It’s ok. He’s fine, I’m fine. It’s going to be all right,” Ratchet whispered.

     Sunstreaker abruptly broke away from both of them, taking a step backwards. “Is it?” he asked, chest heaving with each stressed ventilation. “Is it, Ratchet?”

     Blinking rapidly, Ratchet glanced at First Tier, only to see the lawyer frown. Over the lawyer’s shoulder, Ratchet saw TopNotch looking at them, tiny smirk on his face.

     Turning back to his wards, all Ratchet could do was shrug helplessly.

 

~ End Chapter 36


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite mechs regroup and learn there are always consequences

     “Come,” First Tier said, gesturing them forward. “We’ll reassess momentarily. But let’s get you someplace quiet first.”

     “Sounds good to me,” Sideswipe wearily remarked, threading his fingers through Sunstreaker’s. “C’mon, Sunny.”

     “Should I tag along?” Wheeljack hesitantly asked, having taken several steps back to get out of the way in the face of Sunstreaker’s rush towards his twin. First Tier pursed his lips, looking over Wheeljack thoughtfully.  

     ”Yes,” Ratchet almost immediately replied. “I mean…,” he said, turning to First Tier, “…if he’s allowed?”

     After the latest scare, Ratchet wanted all his friends and family in one place where he could watch over them. He shot a glance in Prowl’s direction, hoping the Enforcer who continued to look out for them could come too. He still looked to be deep in conversation with the judge, however.

     “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” First Tier explained, much to Ratchet’s disappointment. “I do not want anyone to think that your testimony will have changed because of this incident.”

     “How would it change?” Wheeljack asked, visible expression befuddled.

     Sideswipe gave a sad ex-vent. “He doesn’t want the jury to think that I freaked you out, but we took you into a back room and beat you until you agreed to say otherwise.”

     First Tier gave Sideswipe an exasperated look before turning back to the engineering student. “He phrased it quite poorly, but that is essentially it.”

     Ratchet had to give his friend credit. He blinked placid optics at First Tier and then strode past him to engulf Sideswipe in a careful embrace. The red twin stared over Wheeljack’s shoulder at Ratchet, astonishment written clearly in his expression. After a sparkbeat, Sideswipe wrapped an arm around Wheeljack’s waist, still holding on to his brother with his other hand.

     As Wheeljack ended the hug, he reached up and playfully tweaked one of Sideswipe’s sensory horns before bopping Sunstreaker on the nasal ridge. Ratchet hid his smile at the resulting disgruntled expression on Sunstreaker’s faceplates.

     “I’ll stay. But not much is gonna change my processor about you two. Even if I didn’t know you, I trust Ratchet’s judgment.”

     He grinned at Ratchet, and the medic’s spark just about burst with gratitude and affection for his friend. “Jackie…”

     “Uh oh,” Sideswipe warned, his head still ducked a little in embarrassment, but mischief lighting up his optics. “That’s the look he gets on his face right before he smothers ya, Wheeljack.”

     Wheeljack never looked away from Ratchet, his helmfins throbbing a slow series of pulses. “I know. But the kids need it more than I do. So get on outta here and settle them a bit, alright?” 

     All Ratchet could do was nod, overwhelmed with how lucky he was to have a friend as true as Wheeljack. He smiled gratefully at his fellow student, resisting the urge to grab him and hug him tightly. Apparently, he was becoming predictable!

     “Alright then,” First Tier announced. “Follow me; I can set you up in one of the conference rooms.”

     He turned and started walking towards the back of the courtroom, Ratchet following him automatically. As he passed by Wheeljack, Ratchet reached out and squeezed his arm, vowing to do something nice for him. Maybe take him out for a round of high grade after court ended.

     As First Tier passed by the new bailiff, Ratchet suddenly slid to a halt and whirled around, prompting the twins to bump up against his back. He craned his neck to look around Sunstreaker’s shoulder, trying to see to the back of the courtroom.

     “Ratchet?” Sideswipe questioned, also looking around.

     “Where’s Ironhide?” Ratchet asked, not immediately identifying the Enforcer’s large frame which would normally tower everyone else’s.

     “Oh. I saw him get up and leave right after First Tier started questioning me,” Sideswipe supplied, shrugging.

     “I don’t think he was supposed to have been here all day. That was the impression Prowl gave me this morning,” Sunstreaker commented.

     Ratchet frowned before nodding. “I think you’re right. It’s silly that they all think we need protection in a courtroom of all places, anyway,” he said, scoffing.

     “Apparently, it’s where you need the most protection,” First Tier said, unable to completely hide his exasperation. He had also stopped when he had first heard Ratchet’s questioning voice and now reached for the medic’s arm, gently tugging on it.

     “Come along; the judge’s recess will not last forever.”

     “My apologies,” Ratchet said, truly meaning it. He hadn’t meant to hold up proceedings, he was just… out of sorts. A little out of his depth as well, if he was to be honest with himself. This wasn’t an exam room or operating suite where he was in control. It was probably why he was instinctively seeking out familiar faces.

     As if sensing his flustered state, both twins simultaneously stepped up behind Ratchet, laying a hand apiece on his shoulders.

     “It’s ok, Ratch,” Sideswipe said softly, smiling encouragingly. It shamed Ratchet, knowing that both of these younglings had been reliving old, painful memories all morning. He should be the one trying to comfort them and not the other way around!

     Ratchet took a steadying ventilation and nodded, smiling back after a short moment. “Of course it is. Go ahead, First Tier; we’re right behind you.”

     The lawyer looked a little skeptical, but turned to continue back beyond the judge’s dais. Ratchet followed, the twins bringing up the rear. First Tier led them through a hallway behind the courtroom and to a room only a few steps beyond. He opened the door and gestured Ratchet to enter. As he did, he looked around, noting a long table big enough to seat at least fourteen mechs around it. Several decanters of energon and glasses were evenly dispersed across the table’s surface.

     “This is where the jurors deliberate,” First Tier informed them. “Feel free to partake in the energon; it’s fresh.”

     Sideswipe immediately went over and poured himself a glass from the nearest decanter, promptly settling into one of the chairs. Sunstreaker followed more slowly, looking around the lavish room and its many wall decorations. Once he was close enough, he took a sip from the glass Sideswipe held out to him, sitting down in the chair closest to his brother and drawing in close until their knees touched.

     Reassured that the twins were all right, Ratchet turned to First Tier. “What now?” he asked.

     The lawyer pursed his lips. “We continue as planned. This could work in our favor, actually. The jurors were right there when Sideswipe attacked Data. That in itself was unfortunate, although it backs up some of the twins’ claims. They also were witness to you diving in front of Rough Node to protect Sideswipe and how quickly he subsided. It was quite obvious how upset he was at what he had done.”

     “But it could also turn people against us,” Ratchet supplied when First Tier paused.

     Shrugging helplessly, First Tier replied. “Yes. It could. Violence in the courtrooms is rare; it’s why everyone passes through the weapons scanners. Not even I considered the fact that the twins themselves are weapons, at least in their canine forms.”

     Ratchet rubbed a hand over his faceplates, shoulders slumping. “Well, Data did. I thought things had been going so well.”

     “They had, rather.  The twins’ testimonies were more impactful than even I had hoped. We can only…”

     First Tier was interrupted by the sound of voices coming closer from outside in the hall. Moments later, Angle swept in, followed by both Prowl and Data.

     “Gentlemechs, lady,” Angle said after he moved to the far end of the room and then turned to face them all. “What just transpired in my courtroom is unacceptable, and I won’t allow a repeat.”

     “She started it!” Sideswipe protested, sitting up from his slouch and pointing a finger at the defense lawyer. Data immediately bristled and opened her mouth but subsided at the warning glare Angle sent her way.

     Ratchet darted forward, immediately clamping a firm hand on Sideswipe’s shoulder, ignoring Sunstreaker’s optic roll.

     “Sideswipe. Please be quiet,” Ratchet chided, shooting a worried look at the judge.

     “That’s correct, young mech. But you finished it. In a spectacular fashion.”

     Sideswipe shrank back under the judge’s gimlet stare. “Sorry.”

     Angle’s countenance gentled at the red mech’s contrite expression. “I know you are. And Enforcer Prowl, whose impressions I’ve come to learn are generally always correct, has advocated for both of you to remain in the courtroom. Which I will allow…” he held up a hand at Data’s outraged sound of protest.

     “…on the condition that both of you accept transformation inhibitors.”

     It took several seconds for the words to actually process in Ratchet’s processor. When they did, Ratchet took several steps forward, practically vibrating in place.

     “Absolutely not!” he thundered, causing both twins to wince and reach for him. He evaded their clutching fingers and stormed over to the judge, utilizing all his restraint to not touch him in some way. He knew that he and the twins were already on thin ice for their behavior in the courtroom, and physically assaulting the judge would be the last straw. But the suggestion was absurd!

     “Ratchet…” First Tier hissed from behind him. “Ratchet, it’s a perfectly acceptable…”

     Ratchet whirled around. “It is not!” he growled, with an accusatory finger. “And I already have plans on having words with you later, so I’ll add your agreement to this ridiculous notion to the list.”

     Ignoring First Tier’s stunned expression, Ratchet whipped around to meet Angle’s placid gaze. “Have you not been listening this past hour? That maniac out there had them inhibited since they were barely a week old! And I won’t stand idly by why you repeat the process, no matter what form they would be stuck in!”

     “Ratch. Ratchet, it’s ok, we don’t mind,” Sideswipe said, warily coming up behind him. The crimson twin placed a placating hand on Ratchet’s shoulder, and he fought the urge to shrug it off. How could they even _think_ about accepting such a horrible suggestion?

     He looked at them over his shoulder, noticing the cowed posture each sported, and Ratchet felt his fury rise again.

     “Really? You really don’t mind being stuck like you were when you were sparklings?” Ratchet spat.

     Sunstreaker shot the judge a wary glance before sliding between him and his guardian. Angle took a step back and politely looked out the nearby window, giving them the illusion of privacy.

     “We’re not actively asking for it. But it’s only for a little while,” Sunstreaker said. “And if we have to be stuck in a form, this one is the better one; we’ll be able speak to you. It’s really all right.”

     “I fragged up,” Sideswipe said bluntly, coming around and standing at his twin’s side. “You’ve said before that there are consequences to our actions.”

     Ratchet shook his head rapidly, crossing his arms over his chest in an effort to comfort himself. “It’s too much,” he said miserably.

     Sideswipe reached out and patted Ratchet’s top wrist. When Ratchet didn’t do anything but look up at him unhappily, he hesitantly slid his arm around Ratchet’s back, shuffling closer to him in a one armed embrace.

     “Better than being arrested or tossed out,” he murmured. “We’re the ones being inhibited. And we’re ok with it. Can you just… let it go?”

     “We’ll be fine,” Sunstreaker assured him before mirroring Sideswipe’s hug on Ratchet’s opposite side. After a long moment, Ratchet relented and embraced the twins, squeezing them as tightly as he could.

     Finally, Sideswipe grunted, squirming beneath his arm. “Geez, Ratchet. No need to break us in two.”

     Ratchet lightened his grip a bit, taking a moment to rest his forehelm on the nearest piece of twin, Sunstreaker’s shoulder. Then he released his troublesome wards, giving Angle a nod as the judge gave them an inquiring look.

     “Fine,” Ratchet grumbled. “But I want the inhibitors off as soon as the courtroom session ends.”

     “Of course,” Angle said, nodding. “I’ll send the medic in. And Ratchet?”

     The judge waited until Ratchet turned to face him completely before leaning in to speak in a quieter voice. “I have a young one of my own, so I understand the protectiveness that comes along with caring for offspring. But I also expect your temper to stay controlled once we are all back in that courtroom. Unfortunately, I don’t have an inhibitor for that.”

     Angle companionably clapped Ratchet on the shoulder as he moved by the medic, Ratchet’s frame heating up as a wave of embarrassment swept over him.

     “Ooooh…” Sideswipe sang as Angle came to a stop near the doorway, gesturing Data over to him. “Ratch – did you just get yelled at?”

     “Shut up,” the medic muttered, tiredly rubbing his faceplates. “I told you both when this all began I had a temper.”

     “Yeah, but so far we’ve only seen it around us,” Sunstreaker said, optics flickering downwards.

     Ratchet reached out and nudged the yellow twin. “Then you’ve never seen me in the operating room. Or on the road. Trust me, Sunny, I have a temper and it doesn’t just involve you.”

     The veterinary medic was going to elaborate when he saw Prowl approaching. By this time, First Tier had joined the judge and his counterpart near the doorway, all three of them quietly conversing.

     “The inhibitors were my idea,” Prowl said in way of a greeting.

     Ratchet managed a spurt of anger before he deflated almost immediately. Prowl always had their best interests at spark, and Ratchet couldn’t imagine that changing now.

     “He was going to throw us out, wasn’t he?” Sideswipe asked, coming up behind Ratchet and resting his forearm on Ratchet’s shoulder.

     “Yes. He was strongly considering it. And Data would have pushed for it. It seemed the only way to keep you all present. If you had been dismissed, there wouldn’t have been any opportunity for rebuttal testimony at the end of the court.”

     “Rebuttal testimony?”

     Prowl’s chin rose as he met Sunstreaker’s optics. “On occasion, some of the witnesses are called back to the stand by either lawyer for additional questions before the verdict is deliberated upon. This gives both lawyers the chance to ask for further details about things previous testimonies may have brought to light. I’ve seen verdicts hinge on these testimonies.”

     Ratchet sighed again. “I don’t like it one bit,” he repeated.

     Sideswipe leaned forward and kissed Ratchet on the cheek before settling himself along Ratchet’s back. “Yeah, I think we all figured that out,” he said wryly.

     “I apologize,” Prowl said, straightening even further and sensory panels dipping low. His gaze landed on first Sideswipe and then Sunstreaker. “I could not discern any other viable option.”

     Sideswipe shrugged, the motion causing Ratchet to sway a bit under the shift of the youngling’s weight against his back. “We get it. It won’t be so bad.” 

     Ratchet pursed his lipplates but said nothing further. His opinion had been made loud and clear. As their guardian, he had the right to say no, but then the twins would be ejected from the courtroom.

     Prowl looked as if he were about to say something else and then another mech entered the room. He briefly stopped to speak with the trio near the front of the room but continued on towards Ratchet and the twins when Angle pointed in their direction.

     The nondescript navy-blue mech stopped in front of them as Prowl moved aside. “Hello. My designation is Socket. I am a medic from the local clinic. I am to be applying transformation inhibitors to two of you?”

     Sideswipe lifted himself from his slouch and raised a hand. “Me. And the handsome golden one over there,” he said, winking at his brother.

     “You could have just said handsome,” Sunstreaker replied, preening a little. “He would have figured it out.”

     “Hmm,” Socket replied absently, removing a small container from subspace. “Well, who would like to go first?”

 ~ End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, then. 6 months after my last chapter I finally get this one written. Would love to say that updates will come more frequently, but there's always Real Life and my Give and Take series has taken over my brain a bit so... updates when they come. I will never abandon this fic though, pinky promise.


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inhibitors are applied; Sideswipe does something stupid. And then something brilliant.

              Sideswipe stepped around Ratchet, peering into the box as Socket opened it and gently removed two small discs. He flipped one over and peeled a small film off, discarding it to the side.

              “Will it hurt?” Sideswipe asked, showing the first sign of reluctance. Ratchet’s spark spasmed, and he had to fight the urge to pull Sideswipe back towards him. As if hearing Ratchet’s thoughts, Prowl moved closer and put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

              “Placing the inhibitor will not hurt in the slightest,” Socket said, motioning for Sideswipe to turn around. “Bend down at your knees, please.”

              Sideswipe did as instructed, lowering himself enough for Socket to reach the back of his helm. The medic then firmly pressed the disc to the nape of Sideswipe’s neck. As soon as it touched plating, the disc lit up and began blinking.

              “That’s it,” Socket announced.

              Sideswipe straightened, reaching around to prod the inhibitor. “Not that I’m gonna, but what’s to stop me from taking it off?”

              “Go ahead and try,” Socket replied, arching an orbital ridge in challenge.

              The red twin pushed and tugged on the disc, but it didn’t budge. “Damn, that thing’s on there,” Sideswipe finally admitted, twisting to show Sunstreaker when he leaned it to take a look.

              “The sealant that adheres the inhibitor in place requires a special solvent to remove. Only accessible by medics,” Socket explained.

              Ratchet shook his head. “Don’t tell my engineering friend that; he would immediately try to create his own concoction.”

              Prowl shifted next to him, his sensory panels fluttering slightly in consternation. “Then let us not tell Wheeljack.”

              “Interestingly, an engineer created the original formula,” Socket remarked, affixing the second disc to Sunstreaker’s neck. “Now, these inhibitors work by…”

              Socket was interrupted when Sideswipe suddenly dropped to his knees with a shriek that had everyone in the room turning to look, even Data. Optics flickering madly, Sideswipe threw out a hand and Sunstreaker caught it, staring worriedly into his brother’s face.

              Ratchet threw himself forward as well, anxiously patting Sideswipe down, but not finding any wounds. He raised his head to shout at the medic, but froze at the look of anger on the mech’s face.

              “You stupid child!” Socket exclaimed, pulling a scanner from subspace and pointing it at Sideswipe. “Why would you do that?”

              “What? What happened?” Sunstreaker demanded.

              “As I was _trying_ to explain… the inhibitors don’t actually inhibit transformation directly; nothing is sophisticated enough yet to do that. It just causes extreme pain if someone were to try,” Socket said, gesturing at Sideswipe’s trembling frame.

              “It’s a pretty good incentive to not transform,” Sideswipe remarked shakily, swaying in place.

              Realizing Sideswipe would be fine, Ratchet abruptly sagged in place, hand pressed against his chest. Prowl’s sensory panels rose in alarm as he slid an arm around Ratchet’s waist in support. Socket immediately turned the scanner in Ratchet’s direction, even as Ratchet waved him away. Ratchet knew the medic wouldn’t find anything other than an elevated spark rate. 

              “Ratch?” Sunstreaker asked, looking torn between staying at his brother’s side and reaching for their guardian.

              “I just… I can’t take much more of this, you two,” Ratchet explained truthfully. “I don’t frighten easily, I really don’t, but I’ve never been so on edge as I have these past few weeks.”

              “I’m sorry,” Sideswipe replied, using Sunstreaker’s help to make it to his feet. “Trust me, I’m really sorry.”

              “Just try _thinking_ for once,” Ratchet replied, his tone a little more harsh then he had originally intended. But he truly was at the end of his rope. There had just been too many scares recently, too many times one of the twins had been in pain or distress.

              Sideswipe hung his head, looking like a kicked turbopuppy, and Ratchet immediately felt badly.

              “I’m pretty sure I got all the processing power,” Sunstreaker remarked, leaving Sideswipe to walk over and soothingly pat Ratchet’s chest. Confirming Sunstreaker was available in case Ratchet swooned again, Prowl backed away. “And the looks, obviously.”

              “Son,” Angle announced from behind Socket, “I think your caretaker has the right idea. The next time you’re about to leap off that cliff, take a moment to think about the possible consequences.”

              “Why would I leap off a cliff?” Sideswipe asked, confused. Sunstreaker shook his head and heaved a sigh, and Sideswipe turned to his brother for direction. “What? What did he mean?”

              “That’s all you,” Angle said, shooting Ratchet an amused look. “Recess is half over. Socket, your other patient, Data, is the femme over there by the door. If her repairs require more time, just send word via my runner stationed outside the door. I’ll be back in the courtroom, otherwise.”

              “I shall take my leave as well,” Prowl announced. “Ratchet, I suggest you take a moment and sit.”

              Ratchet nodded and sat down heavily in the nearest chair. “Excellent suggestion,” he murmured to himself as Prowl nodded at him and left the room, following closely behind the judge.

              “You appear to be in good health, other than a racing sparkrate. Do you feel you would benefit from a light sedative?” Socket asked, putting his scanner back into subspace. He propped his hands on his hips and stared down at Ratchet.

              Ratchet shook his head, although he was tempted. “I still have to testify, and I’ll need my wits about me.”

              “All right. Well, I’ll be examining the other one, if you decide to change your mind,” the medic said, and walked across the room to the impatient looking lawyer.

              “Ratchet, what did the judge mean?” Sideswipe asked, hand rubbing small circles at the base of one of his audial horns. “My sensors are still kinda ringing.”

              Sunstreaker broke off from hovering at Ratchet’s shoulder and strode over to his brother, grabbing him by the elbow. “Come on,” he said roughly. “Ratchet needs a few minutes away from your stupidity; I’ll explain it to you.”

              The golden twin dragged his protesting brother away in the direction of Data and Socket, passing First Tier as he scooted around them and walked towards Ratchet.

              “Ratchet? Your comment earlier…” First Tier began when he was within speaking distance.

              Ratchet wearily held up a hand. “I apologize for snapping at you. Prowl gave me a little more information about the inhibitors. I still hate the thought of them, but I understand the benefit of keeping the twins present for the rest of the proceedings.”

              “Thank you. I appreciate the apology. But what you said made it seem as if that was not your only concern,” First Tier said delicately.

              Over the lawyer’s shoulder, Ratchet watched the twins argue, eventually ceasing the use of spoken words and instead delving into their bond. That nevertheless didn’t stop the waving of arms or rapidly changing expressions. Across the room, Socket passed a scanner over Data’s frame as the femme gazed at the twins with a puzzled look on her face.

              Dismissing the defense lawyer’s confusion, Ratchet turned back to the prosecutor in front of him. “I didn’t like how you changed up the rotation without letting us know.”

              “I told you the reason why I did that,” First Tier responded, crossing his arms over his chest.

              “You caused Sunstreaker a great deal of anxiety,” Ratchet retorted. “And I think you would have gotten the exact same response from him as if you had told us your plan when we walked into the courtroom.”

              “I apologize for distressing Sunstreaker, but…”

              Ratchet slashed his head through the air, making FirsTier take a step back. “No! Don’t apologize to me, apologize to him! You’re supposed to be on _our_ side - we’re supposed to be able to trust you… I have to admit I don’t as much as when we spoke in my home.”

              FirstTier ex-vented heavily, optics dimming slightly. “That is regrettable. But I feel you are laboring under a misconception; I’m not on ‘your side’. My job in the courtroom is to provide enough evidence to imprison a criminal for as long as possible so what happened to the twins doesn’t to someone else. Hurting a few feelings along the way to reaching that goal is an acceptable loss.”

              Ratchet had to admire the lawyer’s bluntness; tact wasn’t something that Ratchet himself had in large supply. Still, it rankled that FirstTier thought it tolerable to hurt the very clients he was representing.

              “I see,” Ratchet said frostily. “So you’re no different than Data.”

              FirstTier adopted a pinched expression. “That’s a little harsh. You really think I did as much harm as she did?”

              Ratchet frowned. “No,” he admitted. “No, I think what she did was much worse. And I admire your motives, I really do. I just think you could accomplish your goal without harming the mecha you’re representing.”

              “I am representing the citystate; you and the twins are witnesses. And as of now, I have no more alternative plans from what we discussed last night, so I will meet you back in the courtroom,” FirstTier announced curtly before turning and walking away, shoulders tense.

              Ratchet watched him go, lipplates pursed in displeasure. The lawyer had sounded as if he were covering up hurt, but Ratchet couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when Sunstreaker had looked so lost up there on the stand.

              “What did you say to him?” Sideswipe asked, taking several steps closer. He walked gingerly, as if he were still experiencing aftershocks from the inhibitor. Sunstreaker accompanied him, their hips and shoulders brushing from how closely they stood to one another. Ratchet knew this whole day was putting a strain on them both, but he was at a loss as to how to make it better.

              “I told him I wasn’t happy about some of his choices this morning,” Ratchet said haughtily.

              “He’s just doing his job,” Sunstreaker responded, guiding Sideswipe into the chair next to Ratchet with a gentle hand. Ratchet stared up at Sunstreaker in surprise, mouth agape.

              “How can you say that? He put you on the stand without warning, asked you questions you didn’t have time to prepare for!”

              “Yeah, it wasn’t the best time of my life. But it wasn’t the worst, either,” Sunstreaker admitted. “And if it puts TopNotch away for good, it was worth it.”

              Sideswipe leaned against Ratchet’s shoulder, pillowing his head there. “That’s what we came here for, right?”

              Ratchet ex-vented heavily, nuzzling the top of Sideswipe’s head. “Yes. But I wish it didn’t have to be so painful to you. Both emotionally and physically.”

              “Well… the physical bit was kinda my fault,” Sideswipe said sheepishly. He purred slightly, pressing up into Ratchet’s touch. “Sorry again. You’re right. I don’t think sometimes.”

              “The first step is admitting you have a problem,” Ratchet replied, tweaking one of Sideswipe’s audial horns.

              “What’s the second step – locking him in a bubble so he stays out of trouble?” Sunstreaker asked with a grin. He nudged his brother’s foot meaningfully.

              Sideswipe snuggled down further against Ratchet. He couldn’t see his ward’s face, but he had no doubt Sideswipe was pouting.

              “I hate you both,” Sideswipe complained.

              “If you didn’t have us around, imagine how much more you would probably hurt yourself,” Sunstreaker retorted.

              Ratchet tensed unhappily, remembering that dark night nearly a week ago when Sideswipe had been bleeding out under his hands. He hadn’t fired the shot, but Sideswipe’s wounds had still been Ratchet’s fault. The familiar doubt began creeping in, only halted by Socket’s approach.

              “I’d like to check you both one more time,” the medic announced, scanner in hand once more.

              “Is Data all right?” Sideswipe hurried to ask, pushing himself away from Ratchet and looking over his shoulder. Ratchet glanced over to the door as well, but the room was now empty except for the four of them.

              “Certainly nothing to fuss over,” Socket reported. “The puncture marks from your fangs were mere pinpricks. There was actually more damage to her chest from the weight of your frame than anything else. Still… shallow dents only.”

              Ratchet raised an orbital ridge in surprise. “Should you be giving us such detail? I don’t think she would appreciate her doctor-patient confidentiality being broken.”

              “I did not reveal more than anyone with functioning optics could make out for themselves,” Socket murmured, staring down at Sideswipe’s scanner’s results. “It was a waste of my time, really. Well, youngling… I think you’ll survive. You may still feel the occasional tingle as the electrical charge continues to disperse. No damage to internal components, however. Please do not try transforming again, under any circumstances. A second shock of that magnitude could easily overload several delicate circuits.”

              “Trust me, I won’t,” Sideswipe promised, expression earnest. Considering how shaken Sideswipe had seen after the first shock, Ratchet was inclined to believe him.

              “Is it possible to still transform? If you ignore the pain?” Sunstreaker asked. Ratchet gave him an incredulous look. Surely he had seen how affected Sideswipe had been? In fact, Sunstreaker had probably felt some of the pain in an echo from his twin.

              “I’m just curious,” Sunstreaker said defensively once he saw Ratchet’s expression. 

              “The pain is designed to escalate… it would trigger a cascade of system crashes, leading to stasis. Transformation would not be possible,” Socket informed them, packing up his supplies and placing them into subspace. “I would not attempt it.”

              “No plans to. Like I said… just wondering.” Sunstreaker suddenly frowned, turning to Ratchet with a confused expression. Before Ratchet could ask what was wrong, Socket spoke again.

              “Hmmm. See that you don’t. Is there anything else you require?” Socket asked, placing his hands on his hips and surveying the three of them.

              “How long are you staying for?” Sideswipe asked, piping up.

               Ratchet then turned his incredulous look on his more troublesome ward. “Why? Are you planning on getting hurt again?!”

               The crimson twin wryly shook his head, patting Ratchet on the arm. “Not planning on it, though you never know. No, just wanted to see if maybe Socket could testify about Data’s injuries. You know, so there was an expert opinion saying I didn’t hurt her as much as it looked like I did?”

               Sideswipe looked hopefully from Socket and then to Ratchet. When Ratchet merely stared back, optic shutters blinking in surprise, Sideswipe’s face fell. “Oh. Dumb idea, huh?”

               “No! No, Red, it’s actually a very good one,” Ratchet hurried to say. It really _was_ an inspired thought. Not that either twin was less than intelligent, but Sideswipe in particular had embraced the chance to be a youngling and had even adopted some more sparkling-like behavior at times.

                “From stupid to genius in two point five seconds,” Sunstreaker muttered. Sideswipe huffed and irritably kicked out at his brother, Sunstreaker easily dodging Sideswipe’s foot.

                Ratchet ignored them and darted a glance up at Socket. 

                “Would you be up for it? I have no idea what it would mean in regards to a time commitment,” Ratchet asked hesitantly.

                “I do have several appointments later this morning, but it may be possible for another medic to take them on. I’ll speak with FirstTier. I’m willing; that femme as certainly making a fuss over nothing,” Socket reported with an annoyed twist of his lipplates

                “Thank you,” Ratchet replied wholesparkedly. “That would be a big help.”

                Socket shrugged. “If your lawyer friend will even let me. I’m no renowned expert; I’m just a young medic from the local walk-in clinic. But I’ll go talk to him now. No matter what, good luck. And stay out of trouble!” he admonished, shooting a mock glare at Sideswipe.

                “No promises!” Sideswipe joked. Or Ratchet hoped he joked. The three of them watched the medic leave, the door shutting quietly behind them. And then it was just Ratchet and the twins, and a small knot of tension in Ratchet’s belly loosened.

                “Alone at last,” Sideswipe murmured, echoing Ratchet’s thoughts. He leaned towards Ratchet again, wrapping arms around Ratchet’s closest one and snuggling his head against Ratchet’s chest. Sunstreaker nudged the chair on the other side of Ratchet closer and then sat, his shoulder brushing Ratchet’s. He didn’t cuddle like Sideswipe, but did allow for Ratchet to capture the fingers of one hand in a firm grip.

                “How are you two holding up?” Ratchet inquired softly. If either one of them showed even the slightest hesitation, he would… well, he wasn’t exactly sure what he would do, but he would do something, even if it were to ask for a few more minutes in this room, alone.

                “ _We’re_ fine,” Sideswipe replied immediately, Sunstreaker nodding his agreement in Ratchet’s periphery. “Worried about you, though.”

                Ratchet startled, craning his neck to stare down at the black helm resting on his chest. “Me? Why would you be worried about _me_?”

                Sunstreaker threaded his fingers through Ratchet’s and squeezed gently. “You were right earlier. It’s been a lot. You don’t like seeing us hurt or distressed; well, we don’t like seeing you upset either.”

                Spark warming, Ratchet pecked Sunstreaker on the check and then kissed the top of Sideswipe’s helm. “Thank you for worrying about me. But it’s like you said – it has to be done. I hate hearing about the suffering you went through, but it’s good for me to know. Now if you both could otherwise stay out of trouble, I think we can all make it through this day just fine,” he said, jostling Sideswipe meaningfully.

                “I’ll do my best,” Sideswipe promised, looking up at Ratchet with a winsome smile. Next to Ratchet, Sunstreaker huffed.

                “Don’t be fooled by that look,” he warned, making Sideswipe stick his glossa out at his brother.

                “I’m not,” Ratchet replied, chuckling. “Trust me, I’ve learned by now. Anyway, either of you two need anything?”

                Sideswipe shook his head and buried against Ratchet’s chest once more. “Just a few more minutes like this?” he asked wistfully, untangling one hand from around Ratchet’s arm and laying it atop Ratchet’s and Sunstreaker’s entwined fingers.

                “I think we can manage that,” Ratchet replied, feeling Sunstreaker shift beside him. The golden twin twisted in his seat and slouched, resting his forehelm against the point of Ratchet’s shoulder, and settling in with a sigh.

                They remained as such for several silent minutes, Ratchet absently stroking the twins and staring out the window, content for the moment. They had to find what peace they could; the rest of the day awaited them, and Ratchet had no idea what was in store.

 

~ End


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial resumes and Data discovers something.

                It probably wasn’t even five minutes before there was a knock on the door and the bailiff, the one who had had a rifle pointed in his brother’s face, poked his head in.

                Sunstreaker stiffened, a subvocal growl rumbling up from his chest.

                By the time he had realized what was happening in the front of the courtroom, Ratchet had already been there, pleading for Sideswipe’s life. Both Prowl and Wheeljack had had to wrap themselves around Sunstreaker to prevent him from leaping into the fray. It was probably wise that they had; Rough Node had been twitchy and Sunstreaker hadn’t been at the best angle to sneak up on the guard and take him out.

                Of course, jumping on the bailiff probably wouldn’t have looked good either.  

                Nevertheless, it had all worked out in the end. Rough Node had only been doing his job, but Sunstreaker couldn’t shake the remembered fear that both his brother and guardian would be shot dead right in front of him. Ratchet wasn’t the only one running high strung lately. A lot had happened in these short past few weeks, and witnessing that standoff certainly hadn’t helped Sunstreaker’s anxiety levels.

                So he tensed and he growled, but he didn’t rip out the mech’s throat like he wanted to. Almost simultaneously, Sideswipe sent a soothing pulse along their bond and Ratchet patted Sunstreaker on the back.

                “Three minutes. The judge would like you to return to your seats now.”

                “Yes, of course,” Ratchet said, slipping out from under the twins and standing. “We’ll be right there. Thank you.”

                With a wary glance at Sunstreaker and his twin, Rough Node nodded and let the door shut behind him.

                “Awww, do we gotta?” Sideswipe whined, still clutching at their guardian’s arm.

                Sideswipe had begged Sunstreaker not to tell Ratchet how much he was still hurting. Not from any of his former, nearly healed wounds, but instead from what had felt like a full body electrical fire which, while abating, still burned. Sunstreaker had laid the blame for that one squarely at Sideswipe’s feet, but had agreed not to tell their guardian. Ratchet’s swoon had been alarming, to say the least, and neither of them wanted to worry him even further. Sideswipe had been cleared by the medic, so there was no point in saying anything else.

                “Unfortunately, yes,” Ratchet replied, patting Sideswipe’s hands. “And technically, you’re still on the stand.”

                Honest to Primus, Sideswipe’s lower lipplate trembled. Sunstreaker stared at him, a little surprised. That had not been an affectation; that was true distress. “I am?”

                “You are,” Sunstreaker confirmed, gently shouldering Ratchet aside before that pitiful expression made Ratchet do something ridiculous like lock all three of them away in a janitorial closet. Ratchet was way too susceptible to Sideswipe’s turbopuppy optics. Fortunately, Sunstreaker was a little more resistant because of their long history together.

                “What else do you think Data can ask?” Sideswipe said miserably, taking Sunstreaker’s hand when he offered it. Moving carefully, and blocked by Sunstreaker’s bulk so Ratchet wouldn’t see him wince, Sideswipe stood.

                “I can’t imagine all that much else,” Ratchet replied, sidestepping Sunstreaker to peer up into Sideswipe’s face. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

                Sideswipe pouted cutely. “I don’t wanna go back on the stand.”              

                Over their bond, Sideswipe pulsed a ball of mixed emotions: unease, dread, pain. He was playing things off as much as possible for Ratchet, but Sideswipe couldn’t hide anything from Sunstreaker. Taking pity on his twin, because the whole ‘held at gunpoint’ thing _had_ been a harrowing experience, Sunstreaker began leaching away some of his brother’s pain. Not too much, because Sideswipe needed to learn his lesson for his impatience, but at least enough for him to function properly. Sideswipe needed what little wits he had to go toe to toe against Data again.

                “Well, we can’t always get what we want,” Sunstreaker said before Ratchet could speak. “I wanted to be an only sparkling, but noooo…”

                Sideswipe turned his pout on Sunstreaker, their link flooding with gratitude. His shoulders relaxed, and he stood up a little straighter with the easing of his discomfort. “Ratchet… Sunny’s being mean to me!”

                “Alright, alright,” Ratchet chided, ushering them both out of the room with a hand on their lower backs. “Sideswipe, I’m sure everything will be fine. Just keep calm and don’t let her needle you. And Sunstreaker… you know your life would be nowhere near as exciting as if your brother wasn’t in it.”

                Sunstreaker gave a put upon sigh as they left the room and traveled through the short hallway to the courtroom. “I suppose.”

                “Do we go back to our original seats?” Sideswipe asked as they emerged next to the judge’s dais. Across the room, First Tier and Socket were standing close together, speaking quietly. Sunstreaker wondered if the medic would be added to the list of witnesses; it had been a surprisingly good idea on Sideswipe’s part.

                “Yes. As quickly as possible; the judge is ready to resume,” Rough Node spoke up, leaning over the edge of the judge’s desk.

                “Ok, thanks!” Sideswipe replied cheerfully and began leading the way across the front of the room. Just in front of the jury box, he turned and shyly waved at the seated jurors. Several of them waved back enthusiastically.

                Sunstreaker stared after his brother, motionless, until Ratchet nudged him from behind. They began walking, and Sunstreaker also nodded in the direction of the jury box. Couldn’t hurt to at least acknowledge them.

                “What’s wrong?” Ratchet asked, his hand dropping to encircle Sunstreaker’s elbow.

                “That guard had a blaster in Sides’ face less than an hour ago. And he just thanked him like nothing ever happened,” Sunstreaker explained in a low voice. “Sometimes, I just don’t get him.”

                “He’s pretty forgiving,” Ratchet admitted. “All things considering, I was a little surprised the walk in this morning went so well between Ironhide and your brother.”

                Sunstreaker snorted. “He got distracted with the promise of good alt mode choices.”

                He paused and watched his twin clamber over Prowl and then Wheeljack, the enforcer unable to hide the exasperated twitch of his sensory panels when Sideswipe almost ended up in his lap.

                “Ah, so distraction is key,” Ratchet mused.

                “You just figured that out now?” Sunstreaker teased, sliding his way between the other two mechs’ knees and the railing to get to his seat. “Sorry. And I apologize for the clumsiness of my brother,” Sunstreaker said in an aside as he passed Prowl and Wheeljack.

                “No problem,” Wheeljack replied cheerfully. “Prowl told me you got a little zap, Sides. Kinda surprised you’re walking at all. Those inhibitors pack a pretty powerful punch.”

                Ratchet wobbled a little as he sat, an uneasy look forming on his faceplates. Sunstreaker’s engine softly rumbled in displeasure as he glared at the engineer. On the other side of Wheeljack, Prowl turned to look over his shoulder, oh so accidentally smacking Ratchet’s friend upside the head with one wide sensory panel.

                “Ow! Uh, but, it’s good you’re so large. Big, tough frame like yours, probably nothing more than a little tingle, huh?” Wheeljack hurried to add, glancing at Ratchet apprehensively.

                “Oh, yeah, not that bad,” Sideswipe reported, waving a nonchalant hand through the air.

                Before Ratchet could say anything, Angle knocked on his desk, catching the room’s attention. The bailiff stepped forward, all optics turning to him.

                “Court is now resumed,” Rough Node announced. “Please take your seats.”

                There was the sounds of quiet shuffles as mecha in the back hurried to do as instructed. Angle waited a moment until the court was quiet and then spoke.

                “Thank you all for returning. It is the decision of this court to allow the continued presence of Citizens Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Both have accepted the conditions of temporary transformation inhibitors to prevent further… ‘incidences’ similar to the one which recently occurred,” Angle said delicately. “Fortunately, all injuries sustained were minor so we can continue the proceedings.  Data… your witness.”

                The femme stood up and made her way to the front of the courtroom, limping just enough to be noticeable. In his lap, Sunstreaker’s hands clenched together into a fist. There was a place reserved in the Pit for TopNotch, but at this rate, the lawyer would soon be joining him. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her!

                “Citizen Sideswipe. I have a few more questions for you. If you could please make your way to the witness stand…” Data announced, gesturing at Sideswipe.

                Next to him, his brother let out an exasperated ex-vent and stood. Sunstreaker looked up, their optics meeting for a split second. Sideswipe quirked a tiny grin at him, shoulders shrugging minutely before he made his way back down the aisle. As he made his way past Ratchet, their guardian reached out and grasped one of Sideswipe’s hands, raising it up and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

                Sunstreaker saw the crack in Sideswipe’s façade then. He knew his brother wanted nothing more than to go back to their apartment, pull Ratchet onto the floor in a pile of blankets and pillows, and crawl into his embrace. Sunstreaker had no doubt that Ratchet would do that if either of them asked for it, and to the Pit with the rest of the world.

                But they also needed to know TopNotch was no longer a threat to them or Ratchet. The only way to do that was to continue with the trial.  

                “Once more into the fray, huh?” Sideswipe joked, smile a little tremulous. 

                “We’re right here,” Ratchet promised, looking a little shaky himself.

                “I know.” He drew himself up, confidence settling back over him like a protective cloak. “Back in a few.”

                He scooted past Wheeljack and Prowl, accepting the pat on the back from the engineer and the small smile from the Enforcer with grateful nods. As he made his way to the front of the room, his steps gradually slowed until he stopped several feet in front of Data. They warily regarded one another for a long moment. Next to Sunstreaker, Ratchet tensed, optics flicking from his ward to the lawyer and back again.

                Then Sideswipe dropped his head, shuffling his feet. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

                Sideswipe’s honesty rang through the bond as he spoked his apology. He had been shocked and appalled by his own behavior, and a little disgusted by his instinctive reaction to attack first and ask questions later. Even the fact that Sideswipe had barely left a scratch on the lawyer didn’t make him feel any better.

                Sunstreaker was just grateful it had been Sideswipe Data had pulled that little trick on. Sideswipe had always been the faster of the two so more often than not, he would be the one catching an opponent’s attention while Sunstreaker came in unnoticed and made the killing strike. Sunstreaker likely would have kept going out of sheer habit, crushing Data’s throat beneath his jaws. And while it wouldn’t have killed her, it would have been severe enough damage to require immediate medical attention.

                All optics in the courtroom were now on Data as she stared at the ashamed youngling standing in front of her, offering what looked to be an honest apology. She looked surprised at first, then irritated, and finally she carefully schooled her expression into blankness before nodding

                “Thank you. I accept your apology,” she said stiffly. She looked as if she were about to say something else, but then she shook her head. “The witness stand, please.”

                “Yes, ma’am,” Sideswipe meekly replied and trudged over to the box, entering it, and settling himself on the stool. Even sitting with his back straight, he looked cowed, and it infuriated Sunstreaker.  Anything that dimmed his twin’s exuberance was a negative in Sunstreaker’s datapad.

                “She could have at least said ‘sorry’ back,” he muttered.

                “That would be admitting she was at fault too,” Ratchet replied in a low voice, optics still on the front of the room. “He brought up the issue first, before she could say anything snide about it. I don’t think it was calculated on his part, but it certainly puts her in a very bad light.”

                Wheeljack leaned in from Ratchet’s right side. “The jurors are in love with him,” he added, optics sparkling. Sunstreaker looked over at the jury to see that while Wheeljack’s statement was likely exaggerated, many of the jurors _did_ seem to be looking at Sideswipe with expressions of sympathy.

                “I’ll take whatever we can get,” Ratchet replied. “I wonder how she’s going to proceed, though,” he mused, pointing with his chin at the defense lawyer.

                Data was looking thoughtfully at Sideswipe, arms crossed over her chest. She finally spoke. “Citizen Sideswipe… that was an interesting demonstration you gave the jury an hour ago. I think it was a perfect example of how dangerous you and your brother both were and still are.”

                She lifted an orbital ridge in his direction. Before Sideswipe could do more than open his mouth, Sunstreaker sent a cautionary poke along their link.

 _She’s baiting you. Don’t say anything_ , Sunstreaker suggested.

                Sideswipe looked over at him and promptly shut his mouth, lipplates forming an unhappy frown.

                Data followed Sideswipe’s line of sight, and her brow furrowed. She gazed back at Sideswipe and then looked over at Sunstreaker again.

                “Sideswipe… are you able to communicate with your brother?” Data asked slowly.

                Sideswipe gave Data a confused look. “Uh. Yeah. He’s right there.” Sideswipe waved at Sunstreaker and mouthed ‘hi!’. Sunstreaker merely rolled his optics and shook his head in his twin’s direction.

                “No. I mean… I’ve heard bonded partners can speak and exchange information across a spark link. Is that true for twins as well?” Data asked, optics narrowing. In front of them, First Tier cocked his head to the side, staring hard at his counterpart. That, more than anything, worried Sunstreaker. If First Tier was concerned, they should all be as well.

                “Yeah, sure,” Sideswipe replied, still just as confused.

                “And are you able to do so right now? Here in this courtroom?” Data pressed, gesturing to the room around them with one finger. She practically vibrated in place, obvious excitement flickering through her optics. She liked like a feline ready to pounce on a turborat.

                “Yessss…” Sideswipe admitted warily. _What the Pit is she getting at?_

 _I have no idea. But I have a bad feeling about this_ , Sunstreaker replied, subconsciously leaning into Ratchet. “What is she trying to do?”

                “Oh, no.”

                Both Ratchet and Sunstreaker leaned forward at Prowl’s distraught whispered words. He looked back at them, optics wide and sensory panels trembling ever so slightly.

                Before Sunstreaker could ask what Prowl knew, Data spoke again, words ringing triumphant.

                “Judge Angle. Based on the witness’ own words, I move to hereby strike the previous testimonies of Citizens Sideswipe and Sunstreaker from record!”

 

~ End Chapter


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angle makes a decision and Sunstreaker emotes

                The courtroom broke out into noisy whispers, and Sunstreaker turned back to Prowl, practically sprawling across Ratchet’s lap to see the Enforcer better. “What just happened?!”

                The four of them huddled together in their row while across the room, Sideswipe plaintively asked, “What did I do now?”

                _Sunny? What’s going on? Did I say something bad?_

 _I have no idea. Hold on, we’re asking Prowl, he seems to know,_ Sunstreaker replied. He sent a soothing pulse of calmness across their link. Sideswipe was beginning to panic at the sight of Data’s triumphant face, believing he had done something wrong. But he had just spoken the truth; if there were concerns about a bond between them and how it affected the trial, well, that didn’t lie on Sideswipe’s shoulders alone.

                “She asked that Sideswipe’s and Sunstreaker’s testimonies up until this point be ignored because they could be seen as compromised,” Prowl explained, voice tight.

                “Ignored? Compromised? How? What…” Ratchet spluttered.

                “Sideswipe…” Angle intoned in a deep voice, catching everyone’s attention. Prowl’s mouth snapped back closed before he could answer Ratchet. Everyone’s optics refocused on the front of the room.

                “Son,” Angle began again, a little gentler this time when he noticed Sideswipe flinch back from the judge as he leaned over his desk to look down into the witness stand. “Data has asked me to do a very serious thing. I need to be certain you understand her questions. You are saying that you and your brother have a bond which allows you to be able to communicate with one another without spoken words – is this correct?”

                “Yes,” Sideswipe replied, shooting a troubled glance at the defense lawyer. Sunstreaker followed his brother’s line of sight to see Data looking unbearably smug as she stood off to the side with her arms crossed over her chest. Sunstreaker hated her with all of his being, and he carefully avoided looking in Top Notch’s direction. Sunstreaker didn’t know what he’d do if he saw his former owner looking satisfied too. “But what does…”

                Angle held up a hand, and Sideswipe fell silent. “And you can utilize that bond right now in this courtroom?”

                “Yes!” Sideswipe exclaimed. “But I don’t understand why that’s a problem!”

                “I will get to that in a moment. Can you use your broadwave communications links?” Angle inquired.

                Sideswipe opened his mouth and then startled. He turned surprised optics in Sunstreaker’s direction before looking back at the judge. “No. Why can’t I?”

                Angle looked somewhat relieved. “Everyone’s communications relays are blocked when they enter this courtroom as well as several of the rooms surrounding it. It is to prevent outside influence on jurors, but also witnesses as well.”

                Sunstreaker perked up at that bit of information. So that was why he hadn’t been able to contact Ratchet on his internal comm link in the jurors’ room. He had wanted to ask about the inhibitors that had been placed on himself and Sideswipe by TopNotch in comparison to the ones placed by Socket. Sunstreaker had thought maybe the inability to connect had been a glitch in his systems, but now he realized there hadn’t been anything wrong with him at all.

                “Outside influence…?” Sideswipe asked, still obviously confused.

                “It is to prevent someone, say your guardian for example, from telling you what to say. Telling you to hold back the truth or to lie as you testify,” Angle gently explained. Sunstreaker felt his spark drop into his tanks as realization dawned.

                Sideswipe drew himself up, armor plates puffing out defensively. “Ratchet would never tell me to do that!” he retorted hotly.

                “Calm down, son. It was just an example. But now you see why this is so important. You have a direct open link to another mecha who could have possibly influenced your testimony. And vice versa,” he said, looking up directly at Sunstreaker. The judge’s expression appeared sad, but Sunstreaker knew it wouldn’t stop Angle from mandating their testimonies be ignored. Primus. All that emotional upheaval for nothing.

                “But we didn’t!” Sideswipe protested.

                _We kinda did at times,_ Sunstreaker said reluctantly. _Ratchet told me to tell you to act cute when you transformed. I just told you to stay silent._

 _But…!_ Sideswipe said, shooting a quick glance at Sunstreaker. He shrugged helplessly at his twin. There was no hiding or denying their ability now.  

“Unfortunately, we cannot prove that one way or another. I am left with no choice but to…”

                “Sir!” First Tier exclaimed, shooting up into a standing position so quickly his chair continued to rock for seconds after he left it. “May I approach the bench?”

                Angle studied the prosecutor for several moments before gesturing him forward with a heavy ex-vent. “All right. Data, you too,” he said when the other lawyer opened her mouth in protest.        

                They both rushed forward, Angle leaning over the edge of the dais as First Tier began speaking in a low but urgent tone of voice.

                “I still don’t understand,” Ratchet murmured, looking absolutely astounded. “How can he ask the jurors to just disregard everything the twins said?”

                “He can and he will,” Prowl returned, frowning. “He has no choice.”

                “But I thought the outcome of the trial depended on us,” Sunstreaker interjected, really starting to see the implications. Their testimonies were firsthand accounts; if their words were to be discounted, how would anyone ever believe TopNotch had intentionally purchased and fought them? Now Sunstreaker was starting to feel a little of his own panic. Sideswipe hadn’t calmed much either, his gaze pingponging between the judge and lawyers, and Sunstreaker.

                “Oh, hey,” Wheeljack said encouragingly, leaning around Ratchet’s back and patting Sunstreaker on the shoulder. “There’s still Ratchet and me and Prowl.”

                Despite the cheerful tone, the engineer’s vocal fins were slowly flashing muted colors. Sunstreaker didn’t know Wheeljack anywhere near as well as Ratchet did, but suspected the dull display represented dismay.

                All four them fell into a miserable silence for several seconds before Ratchet shook himself. “Well, we might as well take advantage of your bond. Can you ask Sideswipe what they’re saying?”

                Sunstreaker nodded, reaching out to his twin. A moment later, he relayed what Sideswipe had heard so far. “First Tier is saying that our reactions to their questions were obviously not rehearsed or influenced. Data is saying it doesn’t matter because the bond communications are so quick. Angle’s listening to both of them, but not really saying anything.”

                Ratchet sighed heavily, prompting Sunstreaker to reach for his hand, threading their fingers together. Wheeljack leaned in from the other side, the friends’ shoulders brushing.

                “It’s going to be fine,” Ratchet said firmly, almost as if trying to convince himself. “’Jack’s right. There’s still our testimonies. And Socket’s too.”

                Prowl shook his head. “It would be unlikely First Tier would call Socket up now. It would be impractical as what he had to say refers back to Sideswipe’s time on the stand. Which no longer exists.”

                “There’s TopNotch as well,” Sunstreaker glumly reminded them all. “Don’t forget him.”

                At that reminder, they all became quiet again, lost in their own thoughts.  

                _Angle’s dismissing them. He said he’s made his decision,_ Sideswipe suddenly reported. Sunstreaker looked up to see the two lawyers move away from the dais. Data looked pleased while First Tier’s expression was pinched; he refused to look in their direction as he returned to his chair. Sunstreaker’s spark sank even further.

                The judge banged once on his desk, a short, sharp knock which returned everyone’s attention to the front of the room. The murmurs which had started up as soon as the lawyers had approached the judge faded away after a few more moments. Next to him, Ratchet tensed, his grip tightening on Sunstreaker’s hand.

                “Thank you. The defense and prosecution both made excellent arguments regarding this issue. Nevertheless, there is no proof that the twins were _not_ influenced by one another or even by a third party during the testimonies. Therefore, I am approving the motion to strike Sideswipe’s and Sunstreaker’s testimonies from the record; jurors – you are to forget everything you heard them say or see them do,” Angle commanded. “Citizen Sideswipe - you are dismissed and may take your seat. Both Citizens Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are allowed to remain in this courtroom for the remainder of the trial.”

                Sunstreaker’s hand creaked as Ratchet’s fingers spasmed. “Damn,” he whispered. “Well. That’s that then. You better be convincing, Jackie,” Ratchet warned, turning to his friend with a tremulous smile.

                “No pressure, huh? I’ll do my best, Ratch,” Wheeljack returned, gently his bumping his shoulder against the medic’s.

                Prowl leaned in from Wheeljack’s other side, overcoming his dislike of the engineer to press against him in an attempt to move closer. His faceplates looked earnest, sensory panels arching upwards gracefully. “As will I, Ratchet.”

                Sunstreaker didn’t say anything. What could he? They had failed Ratchet, just like they had failed their Carrier. Once again, just by existing.

                “Stop it!”

                Sideswipe’s lowly whispered voice cut across the others’. Sunstreaker looked up to see his brother standing in the aisle in front of their row, scowling at him.  

                “Red?” Ratchet questioned, looking confused.

                “Tell him…” Sideswipe began, scrambling past Prowl and Wheeljack and stepping on a few pedes in his haste. He ended up tripping over Sunstreaker’s feet too and landed in a messy sprawl in his own seat. He twisted at the last moment and glared fiercely up at Sunstreaker. “Tell him it’s not our fault.”

                Sunstreaker didn’t know how his brother managed the opposite emotions, but Sideswipe was angrily pulsing waves of comfort along their bond, all the while glowering at him.

                “What… of _course_ it’s not your fault,” Ratchet protested, squeezing Sunstreaker’s hand even tighter. At this point, he wouldn’t have any paint left on his fingers. He wasn’t about to tell Ratchet to stop, though. He craved both the comfort and the pain. “No one’s to blame here. Everyone who knew about the communication block probably just assumed it would work for the twin bond as well.”

                “That is correct,” Prowl interjected. “It applies to formed bonds between mates, so it never occurred to me it would not apply to creation bonds. I’m sure First Tier had the same thought. Twins are so rare; I do not think there has ever been a case involving a pair, at least in my lifetime. If nothing else, this case will redefine internal security within courtrooms.”

                “I just… we ruined it. We ruined it all,” Sunstreaker muttered in misery, ducking his head. “It wasn’t anything we said or did, it’s because of us… how we’re made. We’re wrong.”

                Sideswipe made a growling noise and then his foot came crashing down on Sunstreaker’s, hard enough to make Sunstreaker cough back a yelp and twist away. Ok, maybe that was a _little_ more pain than he wanted.

“I would haul off and punch you except it would probably get me shot,” Sideswipe snarled before Ratchet could reply.

                “Shut up!” Sunstreaker exclaimed softly, shooting a glance up at the dais. The judge was leaning over the edge again, speaking to Data while Rough Node stood at attention. Sharp optics roamed the room, but their attention thankfully weren’t on them at the moment. Sunstreaker yanked his foot away, mourning the scuffs which now adorned it.

                “ _You_ shut up. I’m not wrong, and neither are you. We’ve never done anything to hurt anybody. Yeah, so we may be a little different in some ways, but it doesn’t mean anything,” Sideswipe spat. “Don’t you dare buy into that slag TopNotch always used to feed us. He’s the wrong one here.”

                Sunstreaker gaped at his brother, a little astonished by the vehemence in his voice.

                “He’s quite right,” Ratchet said, reaching up to grasp Sunstreaker’s chin and turn his gaze to their guardian’s. “Neither of you did anything bad, Sunny. I’m disappointed in this turn of events, but I’m in no way disappointed in _you_.”

                “Oh, slag,” Wheeljack muttered, startling in his seat. “Ratchet, they just called for you.”

                Sunstreaker followed Wheeljack’s line of sight and realized Data had sat back down and First Tier had remained standing. The whispered conversation between the three of them had masked the sound of the prosecutor calling Ratchet’s designation.

                “The next break we have, we are going to discuss this some more,” Ratchet warned Sunstreaker as he hurriedly stood and began making his way down the row. Sunstreaker keenly felt the loss of Ratchet’s presence and had to mightily resist the urge to reach after him. “Now take care of each other while I’m up there. And no outbursts, no matter what questions they ask me, all right?”

                He paused a few steps away from the center aisle, looking from Prowl to Wheeljack and then back to the Enforcer. “Will you two keep an optic on them? Prowl - I give you full permission to stun them if they get unruly.”

                “Hey!” Sideswipe protested. “I think I’ve had enough things messing with my electrical systems today!”

                “We shall watch out for them. Of course, as I am weaponless, I would not be able to perform the latter,” Prowl replied with a small, reassuring smile in Sideswipe’s direction

                “Just hit them over the head,” Sunstreaker heard Ratchet mutter as he edged past Prowl. “Although you might end up hurting your hand.”

                “What did he say?” Sideswipe asked, leaning into Sunstreaker. Annoyed by the way things were going and made more anxious by Ratchet’s departure, Sunstreaker took it out on the nearest mech.

                “He wishes he had never laid optics on you,” Sunstreaker retorted sharply. Sideswipe jerked back as if struck, optics widening in hurt, and Sunstreaker immediately regretted the words.

                “No, he didn’t,” Sunstreaker whined uncertainly. “Did he?”

                Sunstreaker ex-vented heavily. It hadn’t been fair of him to lash out like that, but he also couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Primus. He hated this whole trial, the emotions and memories it provoked. “No. He didn’t, you know that. Just… just be quiet, ok? My head hurts.”

                Surprisingly, Sideswipe didn’t say a word. Instead, he nodded, expression still downtrodden.

                Sunstreaker sank back into his chair, watching as Ratchet ascended into the witness box. He looked determined, and his paint shone softly under the ceiling lights. At least that was one thing Sunstreaker could do right; Ratchet looked so much more professional with his new color placements.

                Next to him, Sideswipe scooted closer. Not quite touching, but now there was barely enough room between their plating for a plasteel sheet. Sunstreaker looked at him out of the corner of an optic to see Sideswipe looking back, almost belligerently.          

                _You can be such an aft sometimes,_ Sideswipe informed him.

                _Yeah, I know. I just…_

Sideswipe’s glare softened. _I get it. But we’ll be fine._ He’ll _be fine,_ Sideswipe added, shooting a glance over at Ratchet.

                “You guys want to move over?” Wheeljack offered hesitantly in a quiet voice and catching both of the twins’ attentions. He patted Ratchet’s seat. “You might get a better view.”

                Sunstreaker couldn’t tell if Wheeljack’s suggestion was prompted by Ratchet’s ask or an honest desire to comfort them. Nevertheless, Sunstreaker’s right side felt cold and while Wheeljack sometimes smelled oddly, he had always been supportive of them and Ratchet. Nodding, Sunstreaker grabbed Sideswipe’s arm and pulled, sliding each of them one seat to the right.

                And if Sideswipe ended up lightly pressed against Sunstreaker’s side when they were settled, he chose to ignore it. It was chilly in here, after all.

 

~ End Chapter 40

 

0_0

40 chapters!?!? How did that happen? Are you all ready for another 40 more? (At the rate it's taking me to finish this story ;)


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet takes the stand and begins to tell his side of the story

                As Ratchet sat down on the witness stool, his optics automatically strayed towards his wards. They had moved over one seat, closer to Wheeljack, and Sideswipe was partway out of his chair and into Sunstreaker’s, leaning against his brother’s side. They looked apprehensive. Ratchet couldn’t blame them as he was a little nervous too.

                Just then, Wheeljack leaned back in his chair and nonchalantly stretched his arms above his head. As they came down, the one closest to the twins landed along the back of Sunstreaker’s seat. Ratchet had to hide a laugh behind a cough as Sunstreaker slowly turned his head, squinting his optics in an offended glare at the engineer.

                Wheeljack quickly jerked his arm back, shrugging helplessly at Ratchet with an expression that clearly said ‘Sorry, I tried.’

                Ratchet smiled wryly, nodding his head in thanks.

                As soon as he did, the view of his best friend was blocked by FirstTier’s politely schooled faceplates. “State your name for the record, please.”

                “Private Citizen Ratchet,” Ratchet quickly replied, refocusing his attention back on the prosecutor.

                “And your age?”

                “Twenty-seven.” Well at least FirstTier seemed to be sticking with the script so far.

                “Thank you. Ratchet, can you tell me your profession?” First Tier queried.

                “I am a veterinary medic. I graduated two years ago and am currently in my second year of a companion animal surgical residency at the Nova Lathem Academy of Sciences,” Ratchet replied, going ahead and supplying the rest of the information he knew FirstTier would ask next.

                The lawyer squinted his optics at Ratchet and gave him a warning look. Ratchet snorted quietly and raised an orbital ridge. FirstTier was really going to wordlessly scold _Ratchet_ for veering off script?

                “I see. That must be interesting work. Can you tell me your class ranking?” FirstTier inquired, his polite mask falling back into place as he turned and began slowly pacing in front of the judge’s dais.

                Ratchet blinked in surprise at the lawyer. That was a new question. But he had a sneaking suspicion where FirstTier was going with it. Judging by Data’s assessing look, she did as well.

                “Well… there are two dozen of us in the residency program. I specialize in surgery as do four others. We all have to rotate through the same basic clinical specialties, but we take more rotations within our own. Each rotation is weighted differently because we are not all taking the same ones. Factoring that all in… I’m currently ranked first in my class,” Ratchet admitted.

                Across the room, Sideswipe let out a small whoop and pumped his fist into the air. Sunstreaker quickly grabbed his brother’s wrist and yanked it back down, but the majority of the courtroom had already turned their heads to observe the red twin’s action. Despite the bailiff tensing, many of the audience and jurors had indulgent grins on their faces.

                Ratchet took in a deep ex-vent and shook his head slightly, fighting to keep back his own grin. It wouldn’t do to encourage the little glitch.

                “Your ward seems to agree with my sentiment that that is impressive,” FirstTier remarked, smiling a little. “Of course, I’m not a member of that field, so I took the time to ask several of your colleagues, professors, and even the President of the Academy, who himself holds multiple doctorates in both mechanoid and beast animal medicine, for their opinions of your professional prowess.”

                FirstTier turned away from Ratchet’s shocked expression and gestured towards the jurors. “If you bring up your evidence data pads, you’ll see those statements listed there as well as the speakers’ signature verifying their words. As you do that, let me highlight some of the comments I received for the judge and general audience.”

                Looking down at his own ‘pad, FirstTier began reading. “The first comment is from the head veterinary surgeon at the Academy. She states: ‘Ratchet has a bright mind and some of the most skilled hands I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching work. I have no doubt he will lead the way for surgical breakthroughs in our field.’

                “Wrecker, one of his classmates said: ‘Ratchet is unbelievably good. Like, scary good. I’m like a first year student in comparison to him. I’m incredibly jealous of his skill.’

                “And finally, the president of the Academy has been quoted as saying: ‘Ratchet is one of the finest students this school has ever had the honor to teach. He’s compassionate, responsible, driven to help others and pets, and exceptionally devoted to his field. The Academy is honored to have him as a student.’”

                The lawyer looked up from his notes and gave the jury a brief glance before looking back at Ratchet. “It sounds as if you are good at what you do,” FirstTier commented.

                Flabbergasted by the various comments, all Ratchet could do was swallow to get his vocalizer working again. “I… I like to think I’m capable.”

                “Well, that at the very least,” FirstTier returned demurely. “To continue… tell me about the day you met Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.”

                Still a little floored, Ratchet floundered a bit. “It was… several weeks ago. On the 28th of last month. We have alternative rotations that we go through which are shorter the regular ones: lab animal medicine, exotic companion and wildlife medicine, etc. We’re supposed to work the local fighting rings as part of the sport animal medicine rotation. At the bare minimum, we tour the facilities, inspect the premises, things like that. And if there are cases that pop up, we work on them. It was my second to last day on the rotation when I was called in for the first time.

                “They didn’t give me very many details, only that there was a dog with a serious injury beyond what the trainers could fix. I showed up and one of the trainers, CopOut, escorted me to the room with the injured dog. I was surprised when I walked in, because I wasn’t anticipating two, but there they were. One yellow and one red dog curled up around one another. The trainer didn’t know their names, just called them Red and Yellow.

                “I could see immediately that Yellow’s wounds were serious, although not fatal. Red was wary at our entrance… he began growling. CopOut…” Ratchet trailed off with a sharp shake of his head. “The trainer activated Red’s collar, dropping him. It wasn’t necessary and I didn’t need the interference, so I kicked him out.”

                Even from across the room, Ratchet could hear Sideswipe snort in amusement. He ducked his head down when Ratchet gave him a warning glare, but he was still grinning and leaned into Sunstreaker in order to whisper something to Wheeljack.

                “What happened then, after you were alone with the two dogs?” FirstTier prompted.

                “Well, I moved in a little closer,” Ratchet explained, focusing his attention back on the lawyer. “I got a better look at the two of them and the similarities between their frames was obvious. I mean, the colors were different, of course, but they had the same shoulder width, the same shape of the head and optics. I thought they might be from the same litter at the very least, but the more that I worked with them, the more I began to suspect they were twins.”

                FirstTier cocked his head to the side, glancing between the jury and Ratchet before asking a question. “What made you think that?”

                “Beyond the identical frames? Just little things, like Red’s focus and concern over Yellow. And they moved around one another as if always knowing where the other would be,” Ratchet explained. “They just seemed very in tune with one another.”

                “Have you ever noted that type of behavior before with other canines?”

                Ratchet paused to consider the question and then shook his head. “No. Not like this. Not even with litter mates.”

                “I see. Did you treat the injury?” First Tier questioned.

                “Of course. I had to sedate Yellow as he was fearful due to pain, but Red was quite accommodating and didn’t interfere in the slightest as I worked on his friend. I essentially stopped the bleeding and closed the gap in the dermal plating over Yellow’s abdomen,” Ratchet explained. “I could go into more detail if you like…?”

                First Tier shook his head. “That’s plenty; I’m sure you did a fine job. What did you do with your suspicions about Red and Yellow being twins?”

                Ratchet jerked his head in the direction of TopNotch, refraining from looking the other mech in the optic. How had he managed to sit there this entire time with only a placid smile on his face?             

                “I went to TopNotch, their owner. Told him I thought the two dogs were twins. He produced papers which stated that they were from the same model line, but were not related,” Ratchet admitted, remembering the sting of disappointment he had felt when he saw the records. He would have sworn on his life right there and then that the two dogs were at least from the same litter.

                “Did the papers appear legitimate?”

                Ratchet shrugged. “Looked that way to me. Although, I suspect anything could be forged if you have the means to do so.”

                “What did you do then?”

                “I left. Well, after I told TopNotch to start feeding them more. They were thinner than they should be, especially for such big, active beasts,” Ratchet reported. “I also mentioned that the amount of scarring present on both frames was suspicious for dogs supposedly only fighting to first injury.  First Tier replied that they were very popular fighters and so received more superficial injuries than the others.”

                Which had made sense at the time. Faced with an older and confident mech who seemed to have an answer for every one of Ratchet’s questions, his ire had quickly deflated and he had grudgingly left. It was only after days of thinking about the dogs that he had decided those answers had seemed too perfect.

                “Was Yellow’s injury, the one you treated… was that superficial?” First Tier asked, looking down at his pedes for a moment before glancing at the jury. Ratchet followed his line of sight to see several of the jurors staring back intently. It was a little unnerving, so Ratchet returned his gaze to the lawyer.

                “No. Definitely not. His fuel pump was showing,” Ratchet replied, shaking his head. Now that he knew the twins, he doubted he could have been as calm as he had been when he had first treated them.

                First Tier looked up, a pitying expression crossing his faceplates and once again Ratchet marveled at the other mech’s ability to act. “Oh dear. Well, I’m glad you fixed him up. What happened after you left the fighting arena?”

                “Well, I couldn’t quite get them out of my head,” Ratchet admitted, shooting a glance over at his wards. Sideswipe was looking a little smug; Sunstreaker just rolled his optics, presumably at something Sideswipe had said over their bond.

                “I kept thinking… what if they really _were_ twins? How did fighting in a dog ring affect them if that was the case? I knew Yellow had healed up as some of my colleagues had visited and saw he was doing well, so that was a relief at least. But what if I had been right?

                “Then Coda, another resident, contacted me about a week after I saw the dogs last and let me know that Red had been seriously injured. So much so that he had been ordered to be euthanized.  I begged her to hold off and let me at least examine him. Based on what she had said, it sounded like a surgical case, and with my expertise,” Ratchet said, nodding at the jury, “I thought I could help.”

                Ratchet paused, remembering the scene he had walked into that day. So much energon in that dingy room, and those deep marks in the floor and doorframe from Sunstreaker’s claws. He shivered slightly and shot a glance towards the twins. The brothers were leaning forward, optics intent on Ratchet. He wasn’t surprised; Sunstreaker had been sedated for this part and Sideswipe had been out of his head with pain and panic induced by separation from his offlined twin.

                “I arrived at the ring and Brightspark, Coda’s partner on the rotation, escorted me back. Yellow had been sedated and removed from the room because he had tried to interfere with anyone touching Red. And Red was panicking, thrashing and crying out. It was obvious that he was seriously hurt: he couldn’t walk on his hind legs and there was a large puddle of energon beneath him from torn lines. It took him a bit before he recognized me, but once he did, I was able to stop the bleeding.

                “It was at this point I had more proof that the two dogs were twins. According to the others, as soon as Yellow had succumbed to the effects of his sedation, Red became crazed. He wouldn’t let the other residents near him. Even after he recognized me and I administered pain blocks, he was still restless and looking around the room. Only when I asked Brightspark to bring in Yellow did he settle,” Ratchet explained.

                “You don’t think that the two of them were just that close?” First Tier, interjecting the question when Ratchet paused.

                Ratchet shook his head. “No. It would be one thing if it was the separation and he responded positively after Yellow had been brought back into the room. But Red went wild the _instant_ Yellow’s sedative took effect, not when he was removed. Twins can still feel each over a distance, so it wouldn’t have mattered if they had been separated. But Yellow was essentially offlined. Which had to be terrifying for Red.”

                His optics automatically sought out his wards, observing Sideswipe wrapping an arm around Sunstreaker’s waist.

                “I understand,” FirstTier said, pulling Ratchet’s attention back to the lawyer. “What was your assessment of Yellow after you stopped the bleeding?”

                “Well… it wasn’t good. His wounds were extensive, extending all the way to his lower back strut and affecting his left hip joint. However, it was nothing that a single surgery couldn’t repair. Rest and nanites would complete the recovery once the back and hip were stabilized.

                “The real issue would be if his owner would allow the surgery to take place. You have to understand that even if TopNotch _hadn’t_ known that Red and Yellow were twins, there was still a cost vs benefit analysis he would have to perform. All owners of production or entertainment animals have to do the same when injuries occur,” Ratchet explained. Which was why he was he was a companion animal vet medic. Just because he understood the practice of offlining instead of performing expensive, life-saving procedures for animals barely worth the cost of a medic visit didn’t mean he was willing to do it.

                “Yet your fellow students had already told you that they had been ordered to euthanize Red,” First Tier said, frowning.

                “They had,” Ratchet admitted. “But neither of them were surgical residents. With my assessment and belief that the two dogs were twins, I thought maybe I could convince TopNotch.”

                First Tier gestured towards Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. “Well, they are obviously both alive and hale, so you must have convinced him. How did you manage that?”

                Ratchet sighed and gave the jury a wry smile. "Well, I don’t know if you could say I really convinced him. Because as soon as I finished stabilizing Red, TopNotch came in and demanded he be put down.”

 

~ End Chapter


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet's testimony continues and he and Data face off

     “TopNotch insisted that Red was useless to him, that he had lost his taste for fighting,” Ratchet explained, his spark stirring with remembered panic and anger. “I recommended he at least sell or give away the dog and TopNotch asked if I would want to buy him. It was said in jest, but I took him up on the offer, with his stipulation that I would be the only one to administer Red medical care and he would never fight again.”

     First Tier tilted his head to the side. “That’s an interesting condition to make – that you be the one to work on him.”

     Ratchet shrugged. “I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I have to wonder. He knew I was a student, but I don’t think he realized I was also a fully licensed medic at that point.”

     “Hmm. Well, that’s just speculation,” FirstTier allowed, inclining his head at the jury, but Ratchet could see several of the jury members looking thoughtful. “Out of curiosity, how much did you pay for him?”

     Ratchet frowned; that hadn’t been one of the pre-arranged questions. He named the sum and several mechanisms in the audience and jury started murmuring in awe. Sideswipe’s jaw dropped while his twin’s optics went wide; Ratchet looked away, discomforted. Didn’t they know he would have paid twice that much?

     Somehow.

     “That’s a large amount of credits,” FirstTier commented, looking a little surprised himself.

     “Yeah. Between that and the medical bills, it amount to everything in my life savings,” Ratchet admitted. “But I didn’t think twice; I had to get him out of there.”

     “Understandable. What did you do next?”

     “Brightspark and Coda helped me transport Red back to the Academy teaching hospital. I checked him in and started working on him myself; it took several hours, but I repaired his back struts and leg and examined him from snout to tail. It was when I was defragmenting his processor that I found the chip.” 

     “Yes, the chip. That is actually one of the evidence pieces. You had a friend look at it first, didn’t you?” FirstTier asked, once again indicating the data pad devices each jury member still had. Several of them checked the chip listing while the others continued listening to Ratchet.

     “Wheeljack, yes,” Ratchet said, nodding his head in his best friend’s direction. “Much like me, he’d already gotten a science degree but he’s in his third year of an engineering specialty. I asked him to take a look and he identified it as an inhibitor chip of some kind.”

     “I see. Wheeljack is actually an upcoming witness, so I won’t ask you any technical questions,” FirstTier commented. “What happened next?”

     “Well, I had left Red sedated while I had visited Wheeljack. The remote monitor I had placed on him alerted me to the fact that he was waking so I rushed back as soon as it went off. I came back to his recovery room to quite a surprise. Instead of the dog I had expected to see, I found that mech right there,” Ratchet explained, pointing out Sideswipe.

     Ratchet smiled as Sideswipe gave a subdued wave. “Of course, looking quite a bit more scuffed up than he does now. In my shock, I’m afraid I gave him quite the interrogation, not really connecting the dots of the paralyzed mech in front of me with my missing dog. I finally came to that conclusion however, and then I had another moment of panic once I realized that if Sideswipe was actually a mech, so was his brother. And I had left him behind.”

     Shaking his head, Ratchet frowned. “At that point, I knew I needed help. I remembered that Wheeljack had made acquaintance with an Enforcer so I asked if he could be brought in to assist. Not long after, Prowl arrived and Sideswipe told his story to him too.”

     “Ah yes,” First Tier said with a nod. “Enforcer Prowl is here today and will also be offering testimony. I’m sure he will be able to go over Top Notch’s arrest in detail; do you have anything to add, however?”

     “Well, he’ll probably have a much more comprehensive report, but I’ll tell you what happened from my side of things. Prowl had said I would be able to take custody of Yellow once he was released, so I tagged along. Of course, what we didn’t know was that he had been released already. When we arrived, we discovered that Yellow had been taken out of his isolation room, for what reason, I’m not sure. But he managed to escape their control and had Top Notch pinned to the floor when we came upon them. I was a little worried because Yellow’s jaws were around Top Notch’s throat, but he desisted as soon as we asked him to, once more proving that he wasn’t just a beast.”

     “Really?” First Tier asked, orbital ridge raised. “Such control after all he had been through under Top Notch’s hands.”

     “And waking up after being separated from his twin, yes,” Ratchet added with a nod. “Which is a big difference from Top Notch’s behavior. As Yellow was walking over to me, Top Notch got up and charged us, looking ready to kill. Fortunately, Prowl shot him in the shoulder and then cuffed him, preventing him from getting to us.”

     “Do you think Top Notch would have really tried to hurt you or Sunstreaker?” First Tier inquired.

     “Yes,” Ratchet replied, nodding vehemently. “Definitely. The look in his optics – it was pure rage. Besides, why else would Prowl feel the need to shoot him?”

     “Oh my,” First Tier commented, all wide, surprised optics. “I’m glad you were with an officer of the law then. Now, Ratchet, since that day, you’ve adopted Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, yes?”

     “That is correct,” Ratchet confirmed with a nod of his head. “I now also work part-time for the local Enforcer Precinct, giving medical care to their working dogs.”

     “Wonderful. I’m so happy that the boys have someone looking out for then. Well, that is the extent of my questions. Data…” First Tier announced, turning and looking at his fellow lawyer, “… your witness.”

     Ratchet automatically stiffened as his optics were drawn to the other side of the courtroom. He had to fight back a moue of disgust as Data pushed herself out of her seat as if it hurt to move. He glanced over at First Tier to see him backing away with a clear expression of warning on his face.

     ‘Keep your temper,’ it seemed to say, something First Tier had repeated to him multiple times during their planning sessions. Easier said than done.

     Data walked over to stand in front of the witness stand and Ratchet gave her a curt nod. “Ma’am.”

     She looked taken back for a second, but quickly schooled her expression into one of blankness. “Citizen Ratchet. First in your class and lauded by your colleagues, is that right?”

     Ratchet blinked at the lawyer. “Yes, first in my class. As to lauded…” Ratchet shrugged. “I know that I’m skilled, but I also know that I’m not perfect, not by a long shot.”

     “Yes. I would say so,” Data returned with an arched orbital ridge. “What would you say your worst flaw is?

     “My worst flaw?” Ratchet repeated skeptically, wondering where this was going. Of course, so far Data had mostly worked at discrediting every witnesses. She was probably trying to create doubt about his character. “I… well… probably my temper. I don’t suffer fools lightly.”

     He accompanied the words with a meaningful glare at Data, but she seemed to take the wordless warning in stride.

     “Interesting. Did you know your colleagues all agreed with you?” Data replied. “Jurors, if you would turn your attention to your evidence logs, I have gathered some more comments about Citizen Ratchet that deserve attention. Let me read the audience a few:

     “’Ratchet? Oh, yeah, he’s good. Real good. He’ll go far… well, so long as he doesn’t scream at the wrong person’, says Forge, one of his classmates.

     “’Ratchet is an amazing student; however, despite his bedside manner to his patients being exemplary, that doesn’t quite extend to his clients. And sometimes to his fellow classmates or staff’, remarks FreeFall, one of his instructors.

     “Finally, I thought this one in particular was a little disconcerting,” Data said, holding her pad up and following along with her finger. “‘Ratchet is a great doc, no doubt about that. If one of my pets needed surgery, I’d take them to him without hesitation. He’s just a pain in the aft to work for – never says ‘thank you’, shouts at you if you’re not fast enough to get him something he needs, and one time I thought for sure he was going to hit me,’ reported a surgery suite assistant who wanted to remain anonymous.”

     Data let her arm fall to her side and looked meaningfully at the jury before turning her attention back to Ratchet. "Quite shocking, don't you think? That one of your assistants felt as if you were going to hit her and wouldn't even state her name in fear of reprisal?"

     Ratchet met Data's optics and raised an orbital ridge. If that's all she had on him, then this was going to be easier than he had thought. "Not that shocking, actually. I've been reprimanded twice since my residency started. I've been working with a school counselor since the end of my first year to help find ways to manage anger appropriately. I acknowledge this particular flaw of mine and have been actively seeking to combat it."

     The prosecutor's lips tightened in displeasure. Then her face cleared again and she nodded once. "Quite responsible of you."

     Ratchet shrugged. "Skill isn't everything."

     "So do you still have... outbursts?" Data inquired silkily, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked at him with a challenging glint to her optics.

     "Yes," Ratchet replied bluntly. "But they are far less frequent than they used to be and I don't throw things anymore."

     "No? Wasn't it your own ward that said during his testimony that he saw you throw something at one of the trainers at the rings?" Date pressed. "That you knocked him out?"

     "What testimony? You mean the one that you had stricken from the record that we are supposed to have forgotten about?" Ratchet shot back, feeling a surge of triumph.

     Unfortunately Data merely glared and steamrolled on. "Did you or did you not knock out a trainer the first time you met your wards?"

     "I did not knock him out."

     "But did you hit him?" 

     Ratchet scowled, remembering his oath. "Yes. I admit to hitting him. I threw my wrench at his head and managed to ding him hard enough that he dropped to the ground, but he was still conscious." 

     "All because he was inconveniencing you," Data announced slyly, crossing her arms over her chest. 

     "No-o," Ratchet replied, voice dripping with condescension. "I hit him because he was torturing a living creature. Red hadn't attacked us, nor had he shown any outright signs of aggression. There was no reason for Cop Out to utilize Red's shock collar. He was being cruel. And enjoying it."

     "But you could have just told him to stop... ask him to leave," Data pointed out. 

     "I could have," Ratchet admitted. "But considering how much violence the mecha at the rings were used to inflicting, I suspect he would have only responded to something similar."

     "Well, I guess we'll never know," Data said, lips pursed. "What about your wards? Have you ever hit them?"

     Well, frag. 

     Involuntarily, Ratchet's gaze flicked over to where the twins sat, Sunstreaker's optics widening just slightly. Ratchet was certain Sunstreaker was remembering that moment in perfect detail. Both brothers had since reassured him multiple times that Ratchet’s whap across Sunstreaker’s helm had actually been a good thing, but he had never quite believed it himself.

     "I... I'm sorry, but what does that have to do with Top Notch buying and fighting the twins?" Ratchet replied, desperately trying to distract from the question. 

     Data's lips quirked up at the corners and it was her turn to look triumphant. "Nothing, I suppose. Your treatment of the younglings is for YPS to review, not this jury. However... I find it intriguing that you didn't answer the question."

     Ratchet's denta ground together and he glared at Data. "Fine. I'll answer your question. Yes, I've hit them. Well, Sunstreaker only, actually, and just the once. The very first day we all moved in together. It was..."

     "Thank you, that's enough," Data said loudly, interrupting him. "I'd rather not know the details of your despicable behavior towards your own wards."

     "No, but...!" Ratchet protested, feeling his tanks sink. She hadn't let him explain! But then again, this was what First Tier had warned him about, wasn't it? That she would twist and turn everything he said around. 

     He glanced at the jury seating and was disheartened to see some of the jurors regarding him with frosty looks. Well, that was just great. 

     "So we've established that you have a temper," Data said, plowing right over his protests. "And you've hit a youngling that you have sworn to protect. Someone that you bought. That you paid a lot of money for..."

     "To be correct, I bought Sideswipe, not Sunstreaker," Ratchet muttered. 

     "... it makes me wonder about your true motives. Why exactly did you take them on instead of letting YPS find them a family? They are awfully handsome, aren't they?" Data said with a wink of one optic.

     It was like she had been inside his processor and knew every dirty little secret locked away in there. But this time, Ratchet was ready. 

     "How... how dare you?!" Ratchet thundered, some of his own disgust at himself adding to his volume. "I fear I understand what you are insinuating, but I can assure you I adopted Sideswipe and Sunstreaker because we formed a bond that didn't seem right to break up. They needed stability, not to be split apart and placed with strangers!" 

     "Your Honor!" First Tier called out, catching Ratchet's attention. He looked over to see the other lawyer standing, leaning his palms on the table in front of him. "Citizen Ratchet is right... I feel as if this line of questioning is pointless."

     "I'm merely establishing witness credibility," Data replied innocently, widening her optics as she stared up at Angle. 

     Angle regarded Data for a long moment before speaking. "Wrap it up," he instructed, frowning. 

     "Of course, your Honor," Data replied with a demure nod of her head. She then turned back to Ratchet. 

     "Why didn't you go to the authorities? When you first suspected Top Notch of fighting dogs illegally?"

     "What proof did I have?" Ratchet returned immediately. "As soon as Wheeljack told me about the chip and I discovered Sideswipe was sentient, I reached out to the Enforcers. At that point, it was less of a concern that Top Notch was fighting dogs illegally, of which I had no proof, and more that he had bought and trapped younglings in an alternative form. Something that I _did_ have evidence of.”

     “You do?” Data questioned, tilting her head to the side. “I’m not exactly sure what proof you are talking about. There are certainly no witnesses.”

     “Yeah, you made certain of that, didn’t you?” Ratchet retorted. In response Data merely smiled serenely at him.

     “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Please tell me – what confirmation do you have that Top Notch purchased those younglings,” Data said, pointing at the twins, “and kept them trapped in their alternative canine forms?”

     “I… don’t have proof that he bought them,” Ratchet reluctantly admitted. “Not unless we find their creator and ask him. But the inhibition chips are evidence that they were intentionally kept in their canine forms.”

     “And what proof do you have that the defendant placed them there?” Data pressed.

     “Well, he certainly didn’t want someone more experienced than I working on Sideswipe so I assumed…”

     “That is correct. You assumed. No further questions, your Honor,” Data chirped. She whirled on her heel and began walking away, leaving Ratchet gaping after her. Why that little…!

     Movement out the corner of his optic revealed the bailiff stepping forward and opening the small gate at the back of the witness box. Floating on a cloud of fury, Ratchet pushed himself to his feet and managed to not stomp his way back to his seat. As he got closer to his aisle, the twins scooted over, offering him sympathetic gazes.

     “I should have let you rip her throat out,” Ratchet muttered darkly as Sideswipe leaned across his brother’s lap to consolingly pat Ratchet’s knee.

     "Yup,” Sideswipe sighed before reclining back in his seat. “Should have.”

     Ratchet leaned forward, placing his head in his hands as he propped his elbows on his knees. “Sweet Primus. When she puts it like that – what actual proof do we have? Especially now that the twins’ testimonies have been struck from the record.”

     Wheeljack soothingly rubbed Ratchet’s lower back as he tilted sideways to press against his best friend’s side, the normally chatty engineer silent. And that certainly said something, didn’t it?

     “Ratchet. Ratchet, have I ever told you that we investigated the manufacturer of the inhibitor chip?” Prowl asked softly, capturing Ratchet’s attention. “Including purchase records?”

     Ratchet blinked and turned his head so that he was gazing at the Enforcer. On the other side of him, Sunstreaker pressed close, vents hitching in excitement. Even Wheeljack perked up, his helm fins flashing an inquisitive color.

     “You mean…?”

     “Part of the evidence logs,” Prowl explained, lips curved up just the slightest in what must be his version of a smug smile. “Proof that Top Notch purchased the chips which were found on the twins’ processors.”

     “Brilliant,” Ratchet said faintly. “You are absolutely brilliant, Prowl.”

     The Enforcer inclined his head in thanks. “I was merely performing my duties. But that is not all. Ratchet… after my testimony, I suggest that you take the twins and leave the room.”

     “What? Why?” Sunstreaker demanded, his brother making an inquisitive sound next to him.

     “Because there is another mecha giving testimony after me and I do not think it wise to have you all interact,” Prowl explained. Which really wasn’t all that enlightening, if Ratchet were to be honest.

     “I don’t understand. Who is it? Optimus?” Ratchet asked, puzzled.

     Prowl shook his head, lips thinning. “I’d rather not say at this particular time.”

     As Ratchet stared uncomprehendingly at the Enforcer, Sideswipe leaned around his brother. “It’s our creator, isn’t it? You found him,” he stated matter of factly.

 

~ End Chapter 42


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Twins react to Prowl's news

     If Ratchet hadn’t been looking directly at Prowl, he would have missed the tiny flinch of his optics at Sideswipe’s words. Ratchet’s jaw dropped in shock. How had this information been kept from him? From the twins?!

     “We have. Just yesterday and he agreed to testify,” Prowl returned after a long pause. “I did not think it best for any of you three to interact with him. At least not in this setting.”

     “Holy slag,” Wheeljack said faintly. “Ya got that right. Ratch’ll probably deck him.”

     “Does he… does he want to meet us?” Sunstreaker hesitantly asked.

     Ratchet immediately turned in his seat and reached for Sunstreaker’s hand, squeezing it reassurningly. The golden twin looked torn between excitement and anger and Ratchet’s spark whirled unhappily. If their creator still lived, would that negate Ratchet’s adoption of them? Would their creator want them back? Would the twins want to be with him rather than Ratchet?

     “Well, _I_ don’t want to meet him,” Sideswipe announced, flopping back in his chair and petulantly crossing his arms over his chest.

     Well, that answered Ratchet’s last question, at least.

     “But…”

     “He _sold_ us, Sunny,” Sideswipe snapped, glaring at his brother.

     Before Sunstreaker could reply, Wheeljack’s name was called from the front of the room. Wheeljack jerked, his head whipping around and Ratchet looked up to see First Tier gazing at their seats a little impatiently.

     “Oh, well… I guess I better go,” Wheeljack said slowly, looking hesitantly at Ratchet.

     He nodded at him encouragingly. “Go on, Jackie. You don’t have as much to tell; it’ll probably quick.”

     As soon as Wheeljack stepped into the aisle, Sideswipe jumped up and began maneuvering his way down to the aisle as well.

     “Where are you going?” Ratchet hissed, catching hold of Sideswipe’s arm. The red twin paused, gazing down at Ratchet.

     “I gotta take a walk,” he replied brusquely and slipped Ratchet’s grip.

     Moments later, Sunstreaker fidgeted and half rose from his seat. Ratchet looked over at him and sighed. “You too?”

     “Yeah,” he said softly, watching his twin reach the doors of the courtroom and slip through them. “We have to talk. We’ll be all right; we won’t leave the building. You should stay, though,” he rushed to stay when Ratchet shifted.

     Ratchet considered his ward for a long moment and then sighed. “All right. You know where I’ll be.”

     Sunstreaker’s face registered surprise and then relief. Ratchet supposed Sunstreaker thought he would have insisted on accompanying them both. But it was a huge thing to learn the mech who had sold you as a sparkling was still alive and nearby. The twins needed to discuss it, and Ratchet wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. Even if the thought of them choosing their creator would break Ratchet’s spark.

     Darting forward, Sunstreaker placed a light kiss on Ratchet’s cheek. “Thanks,” he whispered. And even lower, barely audible, “love you.”

     “Love you too, Sunny,” Ratchet replied with a warm smile. He patted Sunstreaker on the back as he followed his brother out of the room. As soon as his ward had left, Ratchet looked at Prowl, orbital ridge raised.

     “So when were you going to tell me?”

 

\--

 

     Sunstreaker found him at the end of the hall, pacing in front of wall decorated with plaques. Sideswipe hadn’t bothered to even glance at them; he just needed to move as he sorted out his thoughts. His processor was whirling with them.

     “I’m surprised Ratchet’s not with you,” Sideswipe remarked, his arms crossed over his chest. Sunstreaker approached him slowly, optics narrowed. As if he should be wary. Sideswipe internally scoffed at that. By this point, he well knew the downsides of not being on the best of behavior.

     “He seemed ok with both of us going. I told him we wouldn’t leave the building,” Sunstreaker replied. “Sides… do you really not want to meet him?”

    Sideswipe hunched in on himself, pacing even faster. Their creator. Ugh. “He didn’t just give us away, Sunny. He sold us. Like we really were just dogs. Why would you want to meet him? We have Ratchet.”

     Kind, warm, blunt Ratchet. Who had taken them in with barely a blink of an optic. Both of them. And put up with them and their quirks this whole time.

     “I don’t…” Sunstreaker sighed wearily. “I don’t want to leave Ratchet. It’s not like I want to run into the guy’s arms or anything. But he knew our Carrier. Maybe… maybe he still has something of hers.”

     Sideswipe’s steps slowed, and he tilted his head to consider his twin. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. “But I’m still not convinced that would be worth it. I just… I don’t think I can ever forgive him for what he did to us.”

     “I’m not asking you to. But I don’t want to see him by myself either,” Sunstreaker said lowly, ducking his head. “And I just want to ask about her. You have some memories of her, but I have nothing.”

     Sideswipe immediately dropped his arms and took two large steps over to his brother, sliding arms around his waist. Sunstreaker immediately embraced him back, pressing close.

     “I would never let you go by yourself to see him. Me or Ratchet goes with you. Actually, I’d rather all three of us go, if you really want to meet the guy,” Sideswipe murmured. He didn’t get Sunstreaker’s insistence on this, but Pit if Sideswipe would let his twin go alone.

     “I do. Wheeljack’s right, though. I think Ratchet will try and hit him,” Sunstreaker murmured back.

     And wasn’t that a thought? As the days passed, Sideswipe realized that Ratchet could be quite fierce, especially when something concerned the two of them. They could take care of themselves in a fight, but it was a nice change to hold back and let someone else fight their battles for them too.

     “We’ll rein him in. Pit, you might have to hold _me_ back.”

     Sunstreaker sighed. “What if he hates us?”

     “I don’t really care if he hates us. If he does, it’s only because of _what_ we are, not _who_ we are. He doesn’t know us. He never wanted to,” Sideswipe retorted. His spark practically writhed in anger at the reminder of the person who had been supposed to care for them in the absence of their carrier.

     Inspiration stuck.

     He withdrew from his twin despite Sunstreaker’s mumbled protest. Grabbing Sunstreaker’s hand, Sideswipe started walking back down the hall, tugging Sunstreaker along behind him.

     “Where are we going?” Sunstreaker asked, bemused.

     “I’m going to show you,” Sideswipe promised, trying the first door he came to. It led to a small room similar to the juror deliberation chambers.

     “What? Show me what? What are you doing?”

     Sideswipe entered the room, pulling his brother in after him. Then he shut the door and engaged the look on it. When he turned back around, Sunstreaker was looking at him as if Sideswipe was crazy. Which, perhaps he was, to be even suggesting doing this here, where they could be stumbled upon.

     “Open up,” Sideswipe instructed, gesturing towards Sunstreaker’s chest. “Let’s merge.”

     “What?! Here? Now?” Sunstreaker demanded as Sideswipe stepped forward. His chest armor was already beginning to split, his spark beating faster in anticipation. And quite a bit of excitement as well. It was kind of thrilling to be doing this essentially in public.

     “Yeah. Just a shallow merge. So I can show you my memories of her,” Sideswipe explained, reaching for his twin.

     “I don’t…” Sunstreaker trailed off as Sideswipe’s spark casing became visible, lighting up his thoracic cavity with soft, blue light. “We don’t even know her name.”

     He backed away and Sideswipe had a moment’s fear that Sunstreaker was rejecting him, but he realized that his brother was merely propping himself up against the nearest wall. Which was smart as even shallow merges could leave them a little wobbly. Sunstreaker opened his arms and Sideswipe fell into them, Sunstreaker’s plating shifting aside to reveal his own spark.

     Their protective crystal shields rubbed against one another, causing a shiver to travel down Sideswipe’s spinal strut. He’d love nothing more than to let their bare sparks fully merge, but that took more time and energy than they had right now. As it was, as soon as Sideswipe’s spark recognized the close proximity to its other half, it pulsed excitedly, seeming to draw all the normal charge in his lines to his chest.

     Sideswipe sagged forward as the rest of his body became distant. Only his spark, and Sunstreaker’s by extension, mattered in his moment. He luxuriated in the feel of his twin so close, their casings growing hot as their sparks firmly pressed up against them.

     A moment later, their sparks surged forward, separated by only their thin crystal shells. Sideswipe couldn’t help the moan that spilled from his lips as the merge solidified. It was a sound of both relief and disappointment; it always felt good to feel his twin, but the connection was thin and dulled like this.

 _Show me_ , Sunstreaker demanded wordlessly, reaching into Sideswipe. He didn’t get far; the depth of Sideswpe’s memory files were too large for Sunstreaker to rummage through without guidance, at least during a shallow merge.

     It was easy enough to pull up Sideswipe’s early memories as they had been reviewed only a short time ago. He bundled copies of them together into a tight, hard ball and passed them on to his brother. He felt Sunstreaker accept them and then still as he experienced them for himself.

     Sideswipe waited patiently, leeching off some of Sunstreaker’s more recent memories in return. He gripped his twin tighter as he experienced Sunstreaker’s lingering maelstrom of emotions produced by his turn on the stand. Each strand of fear and hopeless resignation made Sideswipe hate Data all the more.

 _She was warm_ , Sunstreaker commented softly, bringing Sideswipe up out of his anger at the defense lawyer. _So warm_.

     Sideswipe felt a sense of awe from his brother and pulsed agreement at Sunstreaker. _She was_ , Sideswipe replied, shivering a little in remembrance of that warmth fading.

 _Her voice… it was so pretty…_ Distantly, Sideswipe felt Sunstreaker pull them tighter against one another. _You don’t remember her face?_

     Sideswipe felt Sunstreaker concentrating intently and reviewed his own memories to try and find an answer to the question. _I… no, I don’t. I think… maybe… maybe her optics were blue?_

     He grabbed a screenshot of himself looking up at a blurry shape and showed it to his brother. It was accompanied by the same feeling of warmth and safety he had associated with their Carrier so he assumed the glint of blue had been hers.

     Sunstreaker pondered the memories again and Sideswipe felt his brother’s mounting frustration as the seconds ticked by.

 _We don’t know anything about her! Her spark carried ours and we don’t even really know the color of her optics!_ Sunstreaker exclaimed, projecting both anger and sadness.

 _Then we’ll ask him,_ Sideswipe replied immediately. _We’ll make him tell us her name, her optic color, Pit, all her colors. If he won’t talk to us, Prowl will find out. It may take longer, but if he can track down our Creator, surely he can get information on her._

     Sunstreaker calmed slightly at that. _You’re right. Prowl’s been good to us so far. But I still want to talk to him._

     A low, simmering rage brushed against Sideswipe’s awareness and Sunstreaker continued on. _We were hers. And he just threw us away. How could you love someone and not want to keep part of them? Weren’t we the biggest part of her?!_

 _And also the part that may have killed her_ , Sideswipe said gently, recalling Data’s information about twins.

     Their merges often went this way – it allowed them to experience each other’s perspective and emotions, ones they may not have really considered. Only now was Sunstreaker really feeling anger that their Creator had sold them. Only now was Sideswipe considering that their presence may have been too painful for their Creator to bear.

     Sunstreaker subsided somewhat. _Yeah. But… he sold us. He didn’t give us up for adoption. He made credits off us._

 _Now at least we’ll get to hear why,_ Sideswipe offered. _I don’t care what Prowl says. We’re not leaving the courtroom when Creator testifies. No way. They’ll have to drag me out._

     Sideswipe felt a surge of fear from his twin. _Let’s not test that, ok? Seeing you tangle with the bailiffs once today was more than enough._

 _Right, right, sorry. If it comes to that, I’ll leave,_ Sideswipe promised, soothingly pulsing waves of reassurance at his twin.

     After a long moment, Sunstreaker gently nudged Sideswipe’s hip. _We should get back. Ratchet’ll worry and it’ll be Prowl’s turn soon._

     Sideswipe whined and burrowed closer against Sunstreaker’s chest. _Wheeljack’s a talker; I bet he can go on forever. Just another minute?_

     Sunstreaker heaved a sigh but Sideswipe felt the wave of relieved acquiescence. Hah. Sunstreaker didn’t want to break apart either.

     Another minute turned into five and after that, Sideswipe just floated a bit. He hadn’t realized just how much anxiety he’d built up over the day. The act of sharing each others’ fears and worries lessened their impact. It was like taking a mild pain block for a moderately bad injury. Time would ultimately be the final healer, but relief from the immediate pain certainly helped things along. Their thin spark bond was much like that signal blocker.

     Sunstreaker laughed in the back of Sideswipe’s head. _Such a philosopher_ , he gently teased.

 _Shut up_ , Sideswipe replied groggily. He tried to shove closer but their chest armor rubbed against one another unpleasantly and Sideswipe reluctantly eased back, mourning that cloud of contentment he had been lost in.

 _I don’t want to go back. Let’s just stay here. Whatever happens, happens_ , Sideswipe said flippantly after a moment. _Not like we can do much about it anymore._

     Sunstreaker sighed, Sideswipe’s body shifting with the movement. _Do you really want to? I could do either._

     Sideswipe thought about it for nearly a minute, weighing the pros and cons. Then he forced himself to start pulling back.

 _No. I wanna see TopNotch’s face when he’s convicted_ , Sideswipe admitted, wincing as their sparks’ fields finally disengaged completely. Feeling cold, Sideswipe firmly triggered his plating closed. But he still stubbornly rested against his twin, chest to chest.

     “What if he’s not?” Sunstreaker asked, voice rough around the edges. Sunstreaker’s arms slipped down, hands settling on Sideswipe’s hips.

     “Then we’ll have to smile for Ratchet and tell him it’s going to be ok,” Sideswipe answered, his own fingers gently kneading Sunstreaker’s lower back.

     Primus. If TopNotch was pronounced not guilty… he didn’t know what Ratchet would do. Probably something loud. Pit, Sideswipe didn’t know what _he_ would do. Guess they would worry about that at the time of the verdict.

     “I’m a little surprised Ratchet hasn’t hunted us down by now,” Sideswipe commented, finally taking a step back. He couldn’t completely separate himself from his twin yet, though. As they turned towards the room’s exit back into the hallway, their hands automatically entwined. They pressed close together, shoulders brushing with every step.

     “I told him we needed some time,” Sunstreaker explained. He glanced over at Sideswipe with a wry grin. “Besides… not like we could get into much trouble inside a courthouse, right?”

     Sideswipe glared a little. So he always seemed to attract trouble – he didn’t do it on purpose!

     “Yeah. _Really_ surprised he hasn’t shown up yet,” Sideswipe muttered to himself, edging out into the hall. Sunstreaker followed him, pausing long enough to shut the door behind them. Sideswipe took a step in the direction of their courtroom and then halted, staring at two mechs coming towards them from the corridor leading to the security checkpoint.

     “What? What are you… oh,” Sunstreaker trailed off when he saw what Sideswipe was looking at.

     “Damn. He is _huge_ ,” Sideswipe said faintly, openly gawking at the red and blue mech with Enforcer emblems on his shoulders.

     “Taller than Ironhide,” Sunstreaker observed.

     Sideswipe nodded in agreement. “By several feet. Pit, he could probably lift Ironhide up and throw him.”

     He pictured it in his mind and then snorted in amusement, causing Sunstreaker to stare at him askance. Sideswipe shrugged. It had been a funny image!

     The Enforcer was escorting another mech, one that seemed to be a minibot in comparison. Of course, take him away from the Enforcer and he was actually probably closer to Ratchet’s height. The mech’s paint job was a garish yellow and purple combination and the closer the four of them got to each other, the more Sideswipe felt as if the other mech was familiar. Maybe he had seen him at the rings?

     It was quickly becoming apparent that all four of them were heading for the same door. The big enforcer paused and genteelly gestured at the courtroom, indicating for them to proceed first. The other unknown mech came to a surprised halt, looking first up at his escort and then over at Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

     A crimson-opticked gaze met Sideswipe’s and he felt as if someone had just come up to him and punched him straight through his armor and into his spark.

     As Sideswipe jerked to a stop, he heard Sunstreaker ask him what was wrong, but he could barely hear his brother through the static filling his audials. He couldn’t even look at Sunstreaker, Instead, all Sideswipe could see was the slim stasis cuffs encircling the other mech’s wrists. That and the slant of his optics that matched his and Sunstreaker’s.

     “Sides? Sides, what it is it?” Sunstreaker asked, clasping Sideswipe’s elbow.

     Sideswipe vigorously shook his head and grabbed Sunstreaker’s hand again. Steadfastly ignoring the yellow and purple mech’s curious gaze, he pulled his brother after him, entering the courtroom much less stealthily than he had left it.

     He didn’t care that half the courtroom turned and stared at him. By now, he was starting to get used to it and his only thought was to get to Ratchet.

     “Sideswipe!” Sunstreaker hissed in protest as Sideswipe hurried them down the aisle to the front section. By this time, Prowl and Ratchet had noted their entrance and Ratchet was already half-way out of his chair, optics wide in alarm.

     “What’s wrong?” Ratchet demanded quietly, one hand outstretched to receive them as Sideswipe stumbled past Prowl. Ratchet’s lap looked awfully tempting at the moment, but one of them barely fit, much less both of them. So he plopped himself down next to Ratchet, still holding on to Sunstreaker’s hand.

     “Sunstreaker? What happened?” Ratchet asked as Sideswipe wordlessly burrowed into Ratchet’s side.

     “I have no idea,” Sunstreaker replied, frustration making him snappish. “We met two mechs on the way in – one of them was an Enforcer, but I’ve never seen either of them bef…”

     Sideswipe felt it when the realization hit Sunstreaker, his brother unable to block off the fierce spike of anxiety and fear.

     “Oh. Oh, Primus… Sideswipe, was that…?” Sunstreaker whispered, pressing close.

     “Yeah.” Sideswipe cleared his intake and reset his vocalizer but the tightness in his throat didn’t seem to want to go away. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that was our creator.”

 

 ~ End Chapter 


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